The Wolves Among Us
by MelanieHope
Summary: Amelia Mara's life had always been…complicated - she should have known better than to think that the normal one that she had built for herself would last for too long. A quiet nurse with her fair share of skeletons in the closet, her world is about to be turned on its head when The Maniax are unleashed upon the city of Gotham. (Rated M for Language, Violence, and Adult Content)
1. Part 1 Chapter 1

****Disclaimer: I own nothing but my O.C.'s****

* * *

The fluorescent lights in the break room had always bothered her; there they hung from the ceiling, never failing to make a dark and dreary day that much gloomier or a bad headache that much worse. The beams the bulbs emitted held no color, no warmth, offering no sense of comfort or tranquility - only a dull, washed out light source by which the hospital staff could read their papers and pour their coffee. Fortunately, it had been a slow day that day - well, slower than usual, anyway - the hospital was always fairly busy; the sick and dying were never in short supply, especially in a large, violent city such as Gotham, but it hadn't been bad, in fact she found that she had the break room entirely to herself on this occasion.

With barely enough energy to pick up her feet, she managed to pull herself across the room before collapsing dramatically onto the large, teal sofa that was situated in the far corner near the "Window-Wall", as she had heard it referred to. It wasn't an inaccurate description, she supposed, though it made a small part of her cringe inside whenever she would overhear any of the other nurses calling it that. Pushing her small, pale hand gently up the side of her face, she stopped only to knead her fingertips into the soft skin at her temple for a moment before continuing to entangle her digits into the mess of crimson hair that sat atop of her head. Regardless of the reduced traffic in the hospital, it had cstill been an agonisingly long day for her - a long year, in fact, if one were inclined to ask - and she was more than ready to go home, longing to be able to lock herself away from the world if only for a little while. She allowed her large, blue eyes to roam across the bland, cream colored walls that surrounded her before turning them to the window, gazing out over the streets of Gotham - it wasn't much of a view, the city beyond being largely obstructed by numerous massive buildings, but for just one second she saw a ray of sunlight peak out from behind the thick, dark clouds and she smiled to herself.

"Ey, Mara - scootch over, will ya?" A young man's voice called, forcing her back to reality.

"Yeah, no problem," she muttered, cursing under her breath when the ring she wore snagged on a bit of hair as she moved her hands down, pushing her palms into the cushions beneath her and pulling her body inwards so that she sat, curled up at the far end of the sofa.

The man - Murphey was his name, if one were inclined to care - plopped down unceremoniously as he mumbled a sort of "Thank you" before reaching for the remote on the glass coffee table in front them. He was an awkward duck, Murphey, and even though it was pretty standard to call co-workers by their last name, there was something about the way that he said hers that irked her. It wasn't a problem with pronunciation, it was just that it sounded so ugly coming off of his tongue, like he was merely making a noise rather than addressing a human being.

The television clicked on, immediately displaying the local news station - a blonde woman was speaking into the camera about something, but Mara had since slipped back into her own world, zoning out completely until she heard Murphey let out an unamused laugh.

"Can you believe this shit?" He asked, motioning with the remote towards the T.V.

"Huh? No - What?" She stuttered, unable to find any words.

Turning her eyes to see what Murphey was referring to, she instantly felt her stomach lurch as her heart dropped from her chest, the small string of words floating across the screen seemingly burned into her retinas.

"No," the word was almost inaudible as it fell from her lips.

"Unbelievable, just unbelievable. Someone's gettin' canned for this, for sure," He continued, not bothering to look at his coworker.

"Yeah, for sure," She replied weakly, merely parroting his words as she delved deep into thought as how best to proceed.

"Work'll probably pick up though," Murphey teased dryly as he leaned back, getting into a more comfortable position as he draped his arm over the back of the couch.

Mara nodded and managed to squeak out some sort of half-hearted reason to excuse herself, jumping to her feet and making an exit perhaps a little too eagerly. She soon found herself in her car, eyelids pressed together tightly as she inhaled deeply. She needed to steady her breathing, she needed to calm down and think, think like her damn life depended on it because after all, considering the news, it very well might. This was easier said than done, however, as she found that while her eyes were open she could not stop them from darting about, suddenly very aware of all of the potential hiding places and shadowy spots where someone could easily conceal themselves - yet when her eyes were closed, all that she could see were those four simple words that had been scrawled across the television screen:

 ** _ _Arkham Inmates at Large__**

* * *

The floor was a cold, beautiful marble and the walls were adorned with what even a fool could distinguish as - if nothing else - expensive works of art. This was somebody's home and they had certainly spent a lot of money creating this atmosphere for themselves; as much as Abbie desperately wanted to feel at peace with her surroundings, especially considering where she had come from, she felt no more at ease where she stood than she had in her cell. The gas seemed to have had a bit stronger of an impact on her than what it had on the others, as she could hardly remember the introductions that had been made earlier. All that she knew for certain was that she and a few of her fellow inmates had been abducted and brought to this place and that a strange man proposed...something? She didn't quite know for sure, but she was fairly confident that she did not care to be apart of it, though she knew that she was not really in the position to decline.

While the others were exploring their new surroundings and playing with artifacts that likely should not have been touched, Abbie sat quietly on the floor, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the window before her, absently twisting the ring she wore on her finger as she watched the people below going about their lives - she thought that perhaps, if she were very lucky, she might catch a glimpse of ****her****. Abbie wondered what she was doing, __how__ she was doing, and then her mind began to wander…

"Oww - Shit!" One of the boys yipped.

Abbie cast her brown eyes towards the source of the disturbance to find that the stringy brunette she knew to be Arnold Dobkins had evidently sliced the side of his hand while giddily pilfering through a box of junk.

She smiled inwardly, _ _"Serves him right, the fuckin' creep."__

The petite woman had not made any friends during her time at Arkham, she was content enough to simply fly under the radar and remain unbothered, but Arnold really got under her skin. She reasoned that it was because she knew what he really was, but then again, she knew what they _all_ were yet none of the other inmates seemed to vex her quite like he did. Maybe it was because to the uninformed observer he would appear to be quite harmless, maybe even nice…

Abbie cracked a slight grin as a piercing, almost manic laugh ripped through the Penthouse - her smile wasn't in response to the noise, but rather to the idea that had formed in her head as a result of the combined occurrences. She watched as Arnold pushed the pad of his thumb into his wound to slow the bleeding as the source of the laughter, which she knew without looking was the red-head, seemed to fade into the background, and all the while she couldn't help but to think _ _"This gang could use a good nurse…"__

* * *

 _ _ **A/N: First fic in a long time, so I hoped you liked it - please feel free to leave a review! Thanks for reading!**__


	2. Part 1 Chapter 2

****Chapter Warning: None really - very, very brief mention of Arnold Dobkins criminal history (rape)****

* * *

It had been a solid 24 hours since Abbie and the other inmates had "escaped" from Arkham Asylum - an excruciatingly __long__ and __boring__ day in which Abbie had taken it upon herself to attempt to convince their liberator, a woman by the name of Tabitha, to recruit just ****one**** more individual into their merry little gang of misfits. The others had gone about their business, squabbling about one thing or another every so often, and were either too preoccupied or uninterested to question why the olive-skinned girl was tailing the raven-haired beauty.

"Hear me out - I know you've said it's a bad idea, but I really think it would be -" Abbie started her spiel for what felt like the hundredth time, relentless in her quest to convince the woman to see things her way.

" _ _Stupid__ ," Tabitha snapped, cutting the inmate off as she quickly turned on her heel to face the girl who had been shadowing her for the better part of the past day; she had to admit that she almost admired her tenacity but she had worn her patience incredibly thin, "It would be extraordinarily stupid. You're feeling lonely and that's sad, but what you're asking of me is...senseless. It is an unnecessary risk and for what? To protect __you guys__? Don't kid yourselves - you're just the first draft picks out of the looney-bin. You get yourself maimed or killed, we replace you. That easy."

Abbie dropped her gaze - suddenly finding her feet to be very interesting - she watched the fabric distend slightly as she wriggled her toes around inside of her shoes. She knew that eventually she might get a rise out of Tabitha, but that did not prevent it from startling her.

"Just seems like it'd be a bit of a hassle is all - going back to bust out more inmates when one of us drops. How many times do you think you'll be able to do it before someone gets wise?" She replied quietly after she had managed to find her voice again, raising her eyes to find the taller woman glaring at her.

"For the ****very**** last time, I am __not__ doing this for you," Tabitha answered lowly, "And neither you nor any of your little friends here are going to do it either. You sit tight until we say so, and even then, if I find you making any 'detours' or unnecessary stops when you're out, I will not hesitate to put a bullet in you. Do I make myself clear?"

Abbie bit down hard on the insides of her cheeks, drawing a small amount of blood; she couldn't help but to feel the anger surge inside of her - she wanted to bash Tabitha's face, she wanted to scream - but she knew better this time, and she swallowed her feelings, bobbing her head lightly in agreement.

"Good," Tabitha clipped before whipping around sharply - her long, inky hair flipping dramatically behind her back as she stormed off, slamming the heavy door behind her.

"Tough luck, toots," A familiar voice called from over Abbie's shoulder, causing the girl to roll her eyes.

So someone __had__ taken notice, after all - and of course it would be __him__ \- even when they had been locked up, he somehow seemed to be able to keep tabs on everyone. It was as annoying as it was impressive. She slowly turned herself to face the source of the sound and leisurely made her way over to the immaculate glass table where he sat.

"Shut up, Jerome," She grumbled as she came to rest her hand upon the back of the chair that sat opposite of him, picking at the black fabric for a moment before pulling the object out just enough for her to take a spot at the table.

"Oooh, she's serious," the redhead giggled mockingly before his face abruptly darkened, his voice dropping into a low growl, "What's the matter? Are we not good enough for you?"

Abbie opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Her words escaped her, but not due to fear or anything of that nature - she knew how Jerome was, at least well enough to know when he was just messing with her - no, instead she found herself distracted by the feeling of a pair of eyes burning into the side of her head. She broke Jerome's gaze and cast her coffee-colored orbs into the distance to find that Arnold was there - a little ways off - eyeballing her, looking away only when he realized that she had noticed him.

"He likes you," Jerome grinned.

"Yeah? Well, that's nice."

"What?" The ginger questioned, "Brunettes don't do it for ya? Or is it, you know…"

Abbie arched an eyebrow at the pale man, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

" _ _You know,__ "

"What?"

"The 'rape' thing," He answered nonchalantly.

"He's a creep," She replied bluntly, to which Jerome merely shrugged, "And that's not to mention that he is a ' _ _he'__. Both of which are deal-breakers in my book."

"Naturally," Jerome responded, followed by a brief moment of silence before he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the solid, cold surface of the glass between them, "So...why don't ya tell me about nurse what's-her-name?"

"Amelia," Abbie corrected sharply.

"Hm?" The red-head inquired, temporarily distracted by indistinct chatter in the next room.

Abbie sighed.

"Her name is Amelia."

* * *

The metal rings schliked across the rod as Mara pulled the curtains closed in a hurry, scurrying from window to window, repeating the motion over and over again; she double checked to make sure each of them were locked before checking that she had also locked the deadbolt on the front door.

She wasn't quite sure what she was doing - this was brand new, treacherous territory for her. The only thing that she had managed to come up with was that she absolutely __had__ to leave - she definitely could not stay where she was, and though she didn't want to be alone, she also could not potentially risk the safety of others; wherever she was going, she couldn't count on her friends to shelter her.

" _ _Clothes, Money, I.D.,"__ The petite woman mentally took inventory of all of the items she figured she ought to take with her, " _ _Keys, Knife.."__

Her small hand reached out, trembling lightly as it wrapped around the cold handle of the blade that sat atop her armoire, lifting it so as to examine the weapon more closely; having removed the sheath, Mara felt a pang in her chest as the initials that had been engraved into the metal caught her eye.

" _ _A.M.M"__

It had been a gift, one that she had genuinely appreciated at the time, though now it mostly served to torment her...but she couldn't part with it. It was, after all, the only weapon she owned and in a city like Gotham, it was remarkably unwise to be without one.

Hastily, she pulled a small, burgundy rucksack from the bedroom closet and scrambled to collect the essentials, stuffing them into the bag haphazardly before slinging it over her shoulder and making for the door, stopping only to take one last glance back at the home that she had worked so hard to build for herself. It broke her heart that she was being forced to abandon it, and though she did not want to admit it - deep, deep down, she was ****furious**** as well. She knew that she was not completely blameless in the situation, but fuck if she hadn't tried her best to do better.

Using the back of her hand, she quickly whisked away a tear that had managed to slip down her face before turning and roughly pulling the door open. Stepping out into the hallway, she took a deep breath, feeling the door click shut behind her as she whispered to herself…

"Pull it together, Amelia."

* * *

 ** **A/N: Hello again and thank you for coming back and reading - I appreciate it! Pretty excited to be writing again, though getting back into the swing of things and finding the right words can prove to be difficult sometimes. I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors that you may stumble upon, I really do try to clean everything up before posting but sometimes I miss stuff. This is something that I do for fun and because I genuinely enjoy expressing creativity in this way where you essentially try to create a whole world/imagery with only your words. We're just starting to get to the point now where things are going to start falling into place in a way, so I'm looking forward to setting that all up. Anyway, as I said -**** ** _ _ **Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it and I would certainly appreciate reviews!**__**


	3. Part 1 Chapter 3

****Chapter Warnings: Violence and Language****

* * *

Amelia moved briskly through the dimly lit corridor of her apartment building, the pale light virtually disappearing into the dark, olive green walls as she reached back and gently tugged the soft, light-gray hood of her sweatshirt up over her head. It had been roughly a year since she had moved in and as such she had reached that stage where she no longer really needed to think about where she was going as she ventured through the building - it was practically all muscle memory at this point - and therefore, while she was deep in thought trying to deduce which route out of the city would be the fastest, she took no notice of the old man who had rounded the corner, stepping out in front of her. Her small frame collided with his frail body with such force that it sent the man tumbling to the ground, throwing his cane from his grasp and causing the single bag of groceries that he carried to spill across the floor.

"Oh, God - Paul! I'm so sorry! I'm such an asshole - let me help you," She prattled on, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment, continuing to apologize to him profusely as she quickly scooped up the man's cane before taking him by his arm and helping him to his feet.

"Hm...yes, thank you," He muttered quietly, staring off blankly into the distance as Amelia hastily collected his purchases and placed them back into the shopping bag.

"Here," She spoke softly, taking her neighbor's wrist and slipping it through the hand holes in the bag so that it hung from his arm, "And again, I'm so, so sorry... I'd offer to help you put your groceries away but -"

"But you need to be going," He finished for her, "It's alright."

The girl gave a half-hearted smile, though she knew that he could not see it.

"Yeah...well, be safe, Paul," She said, giving his arm a single pat as she stepped around him to continue towards the elevator, however she was stopped as the old man reached out and took hold of her forearm.

"Miss Mara…you are a kind and gentle soul in an __exceptionally__ cruel world."

"I'm sorry?" Amelia replied, not sure of how she was supposed to respond as she took note of the solemn look that had spread across his face.

"No, no - there's no need to apologize. Just please be careful, be selfish if you have to, and above all else, protect yourself."

The girl merely nodded and whispered a small kind of 'thank you' before continuing on her way, glancing back only for a moment to watch as her neighbor disappeared inside of his apartment before she crossed the metal threshold of the elevator. His words had been deeply unsettling to her, though she reasoned that in her current state of mind she was likely reading too far into it - still, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to warn her about something…

* * *

Amelia slowly lifted her lids, letting out an annoyed hiss as a stray beam of sunlight pierced through the soft-white window blinds and stung at her tired, blue eyes. She was pleasantly surprised to find that she had managed to get some rest, even if it had only been a few hours worth. She rolled onto her side, groaning at the feel of the hard mattress beneath her as she lazily reached out for the small, black phone that sat on the nightstand beside the bed; she had missed ten phone calls since she left Gotham four days prior. Most of the calls had been from her coworkers, wanting to know where she was and why she hadn't showed up for work, but there were also a few voicemails left by the Gotham City Police Department - they had a few questions for her, apparently.

Amelia had nothing to offer them. She didn't know anything and she wanted no part in whatever was happening - she toyed with the idea of just telling them that, but she knew better. Nothing could ever be that simple. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she pushed herself up into a sitting position as she scrolled through her phone.

 _ _Knock, Knock, Knock__

"Fuck," The girl spat, her heart jumping into her throat as the sudden, thunderous sound split through the still air of the room.

"GCPD, open up!" A gruff male voice shouted from the other side of the door.

" _ _Fuck__!"

Springing to her feet in a panic, Amelia scrambled to collect her belongings. There was a window in the bathroom that she could probably fit through, she reasoned as she pulled her jeans up over her thighs. Grabbing her bag, she hurried towards the bathroom, hearing the front door open behind her as she went.

"Miss Mara, we have the place surrounded," The officer called out, "You're not in any trouble now but you __will__ __be__ if you run. We just have some questions."

Well...he had a good point.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Amelia begrudgingly turned around to meet the gaze of the man - she recognized him instantly.

Harvey Bullock.

"How'd you find me?" She asked.

"You used a credit card to pay for your room, genius. Just be glad we found you before __she__ did."

"So, she ****is**** one of the ones that got out? Fantastic," The girl responded dryly.

"You didn't know?," Harvey asked incredulously, "Because you see, that's kind of hard to believe from where I'm standing."

"Really? That's hard to believe for you? Are you fucking serious right now?"

"As a heart attack, sweetheart." He replied lowly, "You skipped town the same day a bunch of lunatics miraculously escaped from Arkham. Some might find that a little suspicious."

"I had nothing to do with this."

"And I wanna believe you," He offered sincerely, "but you need to come with me."

* * *

The interrogation had gone about as well as Amelia expected it would - they asked her what she knew, she told them that she didn't know anything, they kept pressing, and so on. After what felt like hours, they had finally gotten frustrated enough to take a break, leaving her to sit alone in the silence of the small, dark room.

Twirling a single lock of crimson hair around her finger, she began to study her surroundings when she heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire ringing out inside of the building. For a moment she was frozen, paralyzed completely by the fear coursing through her before she decided to drop to her knees and crawl beneath the table.

Seconds later, an officer burst through the door - he was a young man, hyperventilating and muttering to himself as he spun on his heel and made to close the door only for another deafeningly loud gunshot to ring out. His body fell to the floor and Amelia choked back a sob as blood spilled from where his face had once been. Clasping her cold, trembling hands over her mouth she remained as quiet as she possibly could, listening to the heavy footfalls of the shooter as they turned and made their way back down the hallway. Hesitantly, she crawled out from beneath the table and came to kneel at the side of the man's corpse.

"I'm so sorry," She breathed out before plunging her hand into the pocket of his jacket, searching him for anything that might be of use to her. She pulled a set of keys and a firearm from his body before slowly rising to her feet and making for the door. Cautiously, she peered out into the corridor, ensuring that it was clear; she drew in as much air as her lungs could take before she launched herself out of the room and hurried quietly towards the rear of the building. Before long, she could see the red neon of the 'Exit' sign and for a fleeting moment she almost felt something close to relief - that feeling disappeared, however, when a door just a few feet in front of her flew open and a female officer stepped out in front of her.

Except that it wasn't an officer. It was ****her****.

Amelia stopped dead in her tracks, her heart hammering inside of her chest. She hadn't changed a bit, except that the small glimmer of mischief that had always been in her eyes had turned into something else entirely.

"Abbie…," She whispered weakly, wrapping her fingers tightly around the grip of the pistol.

"Baby?! Oh my God - I can't believe it's you! What're you doing here?" The brunette exclaimed excitedly, clearly surprised as a grin spread across her face and she took a few steps forward.

Amelia immediately backed away from the woman, raising her weapon as she went.

"Could ask you the same," She responded, doing her best to keep her voice even.

The smile that had emerged on Abbie's face quickly faltered as she stared at the gun that was being pointed her way.

"Doin' a favor for a friend, I guess," She answered with a shrug, "It's nothing, really."

"Really? 'It's nothing' - that's honestly how you feel about this? You and your fucked up little friends come up in here, shoot up the place, and that's 'nothing' to you? People are dead, Abs!"

"And what's so bad about that?" She scoffed, "People die all of the time and most of these assholes had it comin' anyways!"

"That's not __your__ fucking call to make!" Amelia screamed, unable to suppress her frustration.

"Oh my God, you're so dramatic," Abbie rolled her eyes, "You always blow everything out of proportion and besides which, don't you fuckin' stand there and pretend like you're so squeaky clean. I know you."

Swallowing hard, the smaller, red haired woman shook her head in disbelief.

"I...I don't even know what to say to you," She started, "Just...let me go."

"What? No!" Abbie replied as though it were the most absurd thing she'd ever heard, "This right here is fate, Amelia - can't you see that? We're supposed to be together and here we are! Whatever you're going through, we can get through it together and not to spoil the surprise but some serious shit is going to hit the fan here shortly and we can keep you safe!"

It turned Amelia's stomach to hear those words - she knew that something inside of Abbie had snapped, it had a long before the night that she had done what she did to land herself in Arkham, but still every time she opened her mouth it was like knives piercing into Amelia's heart. It hurt to be reminded of how irrevocably lost she was.

"No. We can't work this out and I'm not going anywhere with you. Please...please just let me go."

Abbie's face darkened.

"You know that's never going to happen," She answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Amelia's breath caught in her throat as she aimed the pistol squarely at the other woman's chest and pulled the trigger with less hesitation than she would have cared to admit.

 _ _Click__

"Ooh, looks like someone's out of ammo," Abbie mocked, "Now, seriously - are we gonna have to do this the hard way?"

Tossing the gun to the ground, Amelia spun her body and darted away from the maniac only to crash into the solid chest of a stranger. She barely managed a glimpse of his bloodied face before he smashed the butt of his gun into the side of her head, knocking her unconscious.

Jerome cocked his head to the side, watching as the petite woman's body slumped to the floor, a small trail of blood flowing from a laceration near her temple where he had struck her.

"Damn it, Jerome!" Abbie growled, clearly annoyed with his actions as she crouched down to examine the wound, "You didn't have to hurt her."

"Kinda feels like I did. What do you care, anyways? Is this uhh- "He blinked a couple of times before shaking his head slightly - he hadn't really cared enough to remember what Abbie had said her name was the one time he made the mistake of asking her about her.

"Amelia? Yeah, it's her."

"That's lucky."

Abbie merely grumbled in response.

"She's a nurse or whatever, right?"

Abbie nodded.

The redhead wiped at the blood that oozed from his noticeably broken nose before scooping the woman up and slinging her limp body over his shoulder.

"Good - she can fix my face."

* * *

 ** **A/N: Hello again and thanks for reading! As always, I apologize for any errors that I may have missed - I found this chapter to be surprisingly difficult to write and so I'm sorry if my scatter-brain kinda shines through with this one. A sincere effort was made, I promise. I'm excited to be getting to the point in the story where our main characters are going to get the chance to interact with one another - it will be interesting, I think, to see how they respond to each other, and so on and so forth. And there's still so much we don't know about our O.C.'s that I'm looking forward to getting into as well. For the record, I know that there are many fics out there that strictly adhere to the story/timeline given in the show and while I will stick to it in many aspects, there will be things that won't exactly match up with the show or may in fact be completely different - for the most part, I will follow what has happened in the show but just don't be alarmed if I change things up a little ;) Again, thank you for reading and feedback would be appreciated tremendously!****


	4. Part 1 Chapter 4

**Chapter Warning : None really. Some violence/Slightly gory description.**

* * *

" _There, there, baby - you're all right."_

Amelia could hear everything - the sounds of movement around her and the sweet words being spoken in a hushed voice as a cool, damp rag was brought to her face, gently patting at her uncomfortably hot skin. There was a small echo of heels clicking against the hard surface of the floor as someone paced back and forth in the distance. It didn't take long after her hearing had come back for Amelia to begin to feel a terrible, pulsating sensation inside of her head. What the hell had happened? Where was she? She tried to force her eyes to open, but her body would not cooperate.

Scrunching her face together slightly, she shifted awkwardly in the chair that she had evidently been sat in, wincing at the feeling of the skin at her temple tugging in an odd way. Had she cut herself on something? The girl moved to raise her hand to her face but found that she couldn't - her wrists were wrapped tightly together behind her back with a hard, plastic band that dug into her soft flesh, causing a small amount of blood to trickle down the side of her hand and drip to the floor. Everything began to come back to her at an overwhelmingly fast pace as she came to understand the situation that she was in - she had been at the police department, there had been an attack, she had tried to run…

" _Oh God,_ " She whimpered quietly as the image of the officer who had been gunned down before her eyes came to the front of her mind - the gaping hole of thick, dark blood and small bits of bone where someone's face should have been would not be something that she could erase from her memory, no matter how badly she wished she could.

"Oh, good! You're awake," Abbie squealed excitedly, the high-pitched noise sending a sharp pain through Amelia's brain, "See? I told ya that she would be fine! She's tougher than she looks!"

The red-haired woman slowly managed to pry her eyes open, blinking a few times as the light stung at them - her vision was blurred, though she could still make out the forms of Abbie and a tall, dark-haired female; she could not make out the stranger's face, but she could tell simply from her body language that she was unhappy.

"Yeah?," The unfamiliar figure scoffed, "Well, I guess we'll find out how 'tough' she really is after Theo gets here, hm?"

"He's not gonna let you kill her," Abbie retorted, stepping in front of Amelia protectively.

"You wanna bet? Because I'm pretty sure he will. I mean, think about it for a second - she's useless to us-"

"Speak for yourself," A muffled male voice interjected.

Amelia allowed her eyelids to close again, pressing them together tightly - her head was pounding, she could hardly see straight, and she was so mentally fatigued that she almost hoped that somebody would put her out of her misery. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she heard someone approach with purpose - considering for a second that perhaps her time had indeed come, but those thoughts quickly vanished when she felt a cold hand lightly slap at her cheek.

"Uh-uh - none of that, kitten. Time to rise and shine, I didn't hit ya _that_ hard."

The girl's eyes fluttered open once more and she had to stifle a startled gasp as she found herself met instantly with a set of piercing green orbs beneath a mess of fiery red hair. She could not entirely see what he really looked like, however, as he had a bag of frozen peas pressed firmly to his nose. Whoever this man was clearly had no concept of personal space, she figured, as he had crouched down so that his face was mere inches away from her own.

"What?," She croaked, "What do you want?"

The man pulled the bag away from his face, revealing his conspicuously broken nose and offering the girl a small smile.

"Well ya see, someone got wise and cracked me in the face and long story short - I need you to fix it."

Amelia squinted, doing her best to force her vision to focus so that she could get a better look at the damage that had been done to his face, cringing as she noticed the bruising and the slight misalignment of his nose. He seemed to find her reaction fairly humorous, as he let out a little giggle.

"You should see the other guy," He remarked darkly, a sinister grin spread across his lips.

"Oh," Was all she could think to say for a moment, before she nodded weakly, "Well, uhm...I can't exactly do too much for you with my hands all….you know?"

"Ah - yes. Good point," The ginger responded, rising to his full height as he moved to step behind the chair in order to release the girl from her bonds.

"Don't you fucking dare, Jerome," The raven-haired woman warned, "We don't know her, we can't trust that she's not going to try something stupid."

"It would be at her own peril if she did," Came the deep voice of a newcomer, "You're practically looking for an excuse anyway, aren't you, Tabitha?"

Everyone turned their attention towards the lanky man - everyone except for Amelia, anyway - watching as he moved gracefully through the penthouse, plucking up a lightweight chair and placing it opposite of their captive; he stared at the poor girl thoughtfully.

"Amelia Mara - It's truly a pleasure, I've heard a lot about you. My name is Theo Galavan."

Amelia scanned his face - he had sharp features and dead eyes. She already didn't like him.

"Yeah?" Was her only response.

"Yes. Abigail here is **clearly** quite fond of you and of course, I've done a bit of research on you myself and while I must admit that I sincerely had no intentions of involving you in any of this...well, _here you are_. Good news for you though - I feel like you could really be an asset to us."

The girl let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"If you really knew anything about me you'd know that I am **nothing** like you or your friends."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," Theo began, "I think you and I both know that everyone is just one _really_ bad day away from being just like us - like _them_...and you've had some pretty bad days, haven't you Miss Mara?"

Jerome's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the implication, a boyish grin sneaking across his pale face as he turned to lean in to speak to Abbie.

"Didn't give me all the details, didja?" He whispered giddily.

"Shut up," She hissed quietly, shrugging him off.

"I don't want to talk about it," Amelia answered assertively, suddenly sounding more sure of herself than she had in quite some time.

"That's understandable, you don't have to," Theo offered, shifting forward in his chair, "But I _am_ going to have to insist that you make a decision; you can either cooperate with us and have the potential to perhaps one day move on and do whatever it is that you want to do with your life, or if not...well, there's really nothing I can do for you in that case. So what will it be?"

The pale woman blinked a few times, truly weighing the options that she had been given before coming to the conclusion that in spite of everything, she was not entirely convinced that she was ready to die just yet.

"What can I do for you?" She inquired coldly.

Theo smiled, though the expression did not reach his eyes - it felt to her as though he were simply showing his teeth rather than expressing any kind of satisfaction.

"Good choice," He beamed as he pushed himself to his feet, "You can start by setting Jerome's nose back into place."

Moving behind her, Galavan produced a blade from his pocket and quickly cut the zip-ties that had held her wrists together before venturing off into another area of the penthouse, beckoning for Tabitha to follow.

Jerome approached the small woman, watching her intently as she shakily climbed to her feet and turned her gaze up to meet him. Jesus, she was a tiny little thing - the top of her head barely came to his collarbone.

"I'm going to need you to sit down - can't exactly get good leverage or whatever when you're all the way up there," She muttered, stepping off to the side and motioning for him to take a seat in the chair.

Without a word, he complied.

"Fair warning - this is probably gonna hurt a bit."

"Ohh, I hope so," He teased, winking at her playfully as he heard Abbie make a disgruntled noise from the sidelines.

Placing one hand carefully at either side of his nose, she examined his face one last time before looking him directly in the eye.

"You ready?"

"Do your worst, doll."

In one swift motion she pushed against him, popping everything back into place - Jerome hardly winced.

"You're all set," Amelia announced, backing away from him so that he could stand, "Should probably keep icing it for a little while, maybe take some ibuprofen or something for the pain and swelling."

"Mhm, got it. Thanks and uh - hey, sorry about," He tapped his long index finger lightly against the wound on her head, smirking when she pulled away from him, "Got a little excited back there, ran outta bullets - you know how it goes - turned out pretty well for you, though!"

The young man let out a boisterous laugh before making his exit, wandering off to God-Knows-Where and leaving Amelia and Abbie by themselves.

"He's not quite right, is he?" Amelia murmured.

"None of us are," Abbie answered softly before stepping forward and carefully taking the woman's hand in hers, silently delighted when she didn't immediately recoil at her touch, "Now come on, let's show you around."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! So, I don't really have a whole lot to say this time - my mind is a little worn out from just hectic life nonsense so there's that. I was a bit concerned about writing the first actual interaction between Jerome and Amelia but I feel like it turned out mostly how I would have liked it to and I hope you were able to enjoy it. As always, I'm sorry for any errors there might be with spelling and whatnot, I do try to reread and spot them all because my word processor doesn't seem to be 100% reliable when it comes to that. I did finally get my first review which was very exciting so thank you very much for that and if any of you are so inclined, please feel free to leave one - thanks again!**


	5. Part 1 Chapter 5

**Chapter Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide**

* * *

Scalding, crystal clear liquid flowed from the gleaming chrome faucet, cascading into the ebony tub below as Amelia watched the steam rise off of the broken, rolling water - the room slowly filling with a delicate fog. She had always been a fan of baths, though for various reasons she found that she had not actually taken one in ages; she had always either been too busy or simply too paranoid that something terrible would happen if she allowed herself to let her guard down long enough for her to actually enjoy herself, so she stuck to taking quick showers more often than not. In her current situation, however, Amelia found herself faced with a bit of a dilemma - her survival instinct was screaming at her to keep her guard up and her clothing on, but the rest of her could not help but to feel how her body and soul ached to be enveloped in the waters warmth even though she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that danger lurked just on the other side of the walls that surrounded her. Regardless of any decision that she could possibly make, she knew that she was well and truly vulnerable no matter what - with or without her clothes. It was a hard truth to accept, for sure, and she figured perhaps that was the reason she found herself still sitting at the edge of a bath, staring aimlessly into the water that had already risen halfway up the tub.

Reaching out and absentmindedly pushing the faucet into the 'off' position, Amelia stood and deftly unbuttoned her jeans, slowly sliding the fabric down over her hips, carefully stepping forward when they pooled at her feet; her shirt and undergarments quickly followed suit, creating a small pile on the otherwise spotless floor. Amelia wasted no time climbing into the bath, hissing quietly as the liquid swallowed her bare form, burning at her skin causing her milky white complexion to redden. She savored the feeling nonetheless - there was nothing quite like a nice, hot bath after a really awful day.

" _And you've had some pretty bad days, haven't you, Miss Mara?"_

Amelia winced, her hands balling up into fists as she recalled the smug grin that had pulled at his thin lips as he spoke those words to her. That son of a bitch...

Abbie had to have told Galavan about her, she figured, though she supposed that she should not have been surprised; it was only fair, all things considered. Shaking her head softly, Amelia tried her best to push Abbie from her mind, but found that it was impossible. She was practically the entire reason that she had ended up in this mess, although Amelia could not help but to remind herself that she had had a hand in it, as well…

* * *

 _**7 Years Earlier**_

 _The Mara's had lived in Brighton as far back as anyone could remember - a small town roughly forty-five minutes south-west of Gotham City, it was a tight-knit community where everybody seemed to know everything about everybody else. Amelia had hated it there for that very reason - everyone was so kind face-to-face, but it had always felt so disingenuous to her, like they were just trying to smile at you long enough to convince you to give them something of value._

 _She wasn't entirely wrong._

 _Any kind of news or gossip tended to rip through that town like wildfire - perhaps those people were just looking for a distraction from their own boring lives or maybe they just got a kick out of sticking their noses in where they didn't belong - whatever the case, Amelia had found it thoroughly despicable._

 _The rumor mill had been slow all summer, but shortly after school had come back into session, that changed. A local girl had attempted suicide - an underclassman at the high school that Amelia attended. Strangely, she had never met nor heard of her before, but once the word got out, there was not a soul in town that didn't know the name 'Abigail Majeski'._

 _Fliers had gone up all over town and were especially prevalent in the hallways at school - everyone wanted to talk about how suicide was never the answer and how there were so many people and organizations available if someone needed help - it went on for weeks and yet, all of the talk about being there for each other and helping one another out stopped the moment Abigail returned to school. It infuriated Amelia to no end to hear her classmates whisper, to watch as they moved to try to catch a glimpse of the poor girl as she moved through the halls, their gazes lingering for far too long; she was a human being, not some fucking side-show for them to gawk at. Her pain, whatever the cause, was real and it was_ _ **hers**_ _and no one else's to try to pick apart for their own sick entertainment._

 _Amelia had begun to doze off while Mr. Gaertner, her American History instructor, gave an unenthused lecture on the second World War - she was jolted awake, however, when the boy behind her, Troy, kicked at the back of her chair._

" _What?," She grumbled softly, shifting her body so that she could see her classmate._

" _You were starting to snore a little," He teased, "Thought I'd save you the embarrassment."_

" _A true gentleman."_

" _You know it," He laughed as he offered her a wink._

 _She rolled her eyes even as the corners of her lips quirked up into a small smile. Troy was nice - a bit cocky sometimes, but nice nevertheless._

" _Uhm, excuse me, Mr. Gaertner?" Amelia spoke as she sat up straight in her seat, feeling a familiar pressure building in her bladder._

" _Yes, Miss Mara?" He answered thoughtfully._

" _May I be excused for a moment, please?"_

 _The short, bald man paused for a second before he nodded, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as they slid down a little. She appreciated that he nearly never questioned why when a student asked to be excused - there were a choice few that he seemed to be a bit more reluctant to trust, but fortunately Amelia was not one of them._

 _She stood and quickly made her way towards the back of the classroom, plucking the small, wooden pass up off of the teacher's desk before stepping out into the hall. She strode through the empty corridor, catching glimpses inside of some of the other classes that had left their doors cracked open and listening as the sound of her own footfalls echoed off of the walls around her. Before long she had reached the ladies restroom and, to her dismay, she found that someone else was there as well._

 _It was her._

 _Not even ten feet away from Amelia stood Abigail Majeski - hunched over the bathroom sink, using her small, cupped hand to lightly splash the cool water against her face. Her deep brown eyes were red and puffy and the purple ligature marks that encompassed her neck were on full display for anyone to see._

 _Without a word, Amelia slipped inside one of the stalls and sat down, waiting in the hopes that the other girl would not stick around for too long so that she could urinate in peace. She knew that it was a natural body function that everybody performed and therefore she had no reason to feel so uncomfortable relieving herself in a public restroom, but she could not shake the uneasy feeling it gave her to do so. After what felt like forever, she peered through the small space in-between the door and the side of the stall to find that Abbie hadn't moved._

 _Pushing herself to her feet, Amelia poked her head out shyly and cleared her throat, but the girl did not acknowledge her._

" _Hey," She spoke gently, cringing inwardly as she heard her own voice bounce off of the bare, tiled walls, "Are you alright?"_

 _A small, humorless laugh escaped Abbie's mouth before she turned to face the older girl, "What do you think?"_

" _Yeah," Amelia replied, instantly feeling horrible for having asked, "Stupid question. I'm sorry. I just...I'm not so great with people and I know that you don't know me and you probably don't care to, which is perfectly fine, and you can tell me to fuck right off if you want but I just want to put it out there that uhm...my name is Amelia and if you want to talk to me that is… that is something that you can do, I guess. If you want."_

 _The brunette narrowed her eyes, staring at her for a moment before she opened her mouth to speak._

" _Go fuck yourself."_

" _Right," The redhead replied, pulling her lips together into a tight line before she started towards the exit of the restroom, figuring she ought to find somewhere else to relieve herself. She stopped just short though, pulling a crumpled up tissue and a pen from her hoodie's pocket, she scribbled down her phone number._

" _For the record, I'm not doing this because I think that I can help you or whatever - I really haven't even got my own shit sorted out so I'm pretty confident that I'd be useless to you in that aspect, but this is my number if you ever decide that you want to hang out or something. I mean, I work a lot so there might be scheduling difficulties, but otherwise I virtually have no life sooo…" Amelia trailed off awkwardly, laying the napkin down on the ledge above the sink before offering the girl a slight smile and venturing off, leaving the younger girl to her thoughts._

 _And just like that, because of her bleeding heart, Amelia had unwittingly damned herself._

* * *

The cool air outside of the room hit Amelia like a sack of bricks as she pulled the door open, the skin on her arms immediately erupting into goosebumps as she clutched at the large maroon towel that she had wrapped around her dainty body.

"You must be the nurse," Came a woman's voice, startling the petite girl as she had failed to notice the blonde figure who had propped herself up against the wall to the immediate right of the bathroom door.

"I'm Barbara, and these are for you," She continued with an edge of annoyance in her tone as she shoved a bundle of clothing into Amelia's chest, "I guess Abbie thought you could use some ' _space'_."

"Oh, thanks…," The pale woman muttered, "So uhm, where should I go?"

She felt stupid for asking, but she hadn't exactly been paying attention when Abbie had given her the tour.

The woman grinned and shrugged her shoulders, "Anywhere you want, sweetheart. Makes no difference to me. Abbie's room is down that way but if you two are having a spat there's a free room up that way to the right. It's right next to ginger's room though - I don't think he sleeps much, but if you can put up with that, then knock yourself out."

Amelia nodded.

"Think I'll take my chances with ginger."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! So I feel like this chapter has a crazy amount of narrative and obviously very little dialogue and I'm so sorry because I'm sure it probably wasn't the most fun thing in the world to read, but it's time to start learning more about Amelia and Abigail and their relationship and this sort of tumultuous past that they've had together - I'm quite excited to start revealing bits of that and for you guys to get to know my OC's a bit better and I figured that showing you kind of how they came to know each other was as good a starting point as any. This is most definitely a Jerome-based fanfiction, but there is a larger plot that I've got bouncing around in my head and so I apologize in advance because there will be instances where the focus may be pulled away from him a little bit. Anyway, I've been having a hell of time getting my words out lately, at least getting them out in a way that I'm completely satisfied with, and that being said I found this chapter incredibly difficult. I hope you were able to enjoy it and I appreciate you taking the time to read it. I want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, those of you who have been kind enough to send me some feedback, I appreciate it so, so much and love hearing from you, so please feel free to leave a review/feedback if you want and thanks again for reading!**


	6. Part 1 Chapter 6

The pale red tip of the matchstick scraped harshly against the rough patch situated at the side of the small, blue box - igniting, Jerome watched as the thin piece of wood erupted into flames with disinterest. He allowed the fire to very nearly engulf the match entirely, feeling the heat lap at his skin before flicking it away, utterly unconcerned with any potential damage that could come as a result of his carelessness. To say that he was frustrated at that moment would have been a gross understatement - he found himself positively teeming with energy, especially after all of the excitement that he had experienced earlier in the day, and yet he could not for the life of him think of any feasible way to expunge it. He had temporarily considered seeing what the others were up to, but the idea was scrapped just about as soon as it had materialized; he had heard Galavan leave, Barbara and Tabitha were probably off in their corner of the penthouse playing house - or their version of it, anyway, Aaron wasn't much of a talker, and Abbie, well...she was likely sulking in her room about whatever was going on between her and the nurse.

 _The nurse!_

A mischievous grin spread across the young man's face as the gears began to turn in his mind. If he weren't mistaken, he had heard the door in the room next to his click shut a few hours ago and he wondered if perhaps it had been their little 'guest'. He could certainly have some fun with her, he figured, as he carefully poked his head out into the hallway, finding that the penthouse had largely gone dark and silent, save for the sound of faint muttering emanating from just beyond the wall to his left. He glided surreptitiously out into the corridor, reaching the next room within seconds; wrapping his long fingers around the cold metal of the door knob, he twisted, surprised to find that it was unlocked. Quietly, he slipped inside, closing the door behind him softly as his eyes darted around, blinking a couple of times as they slowly adjusted to the darkness.

His gaze ultimately fell upon her sleeping form. _Amelia_. Her name had practically become just an annoying noise that Abbie would make at regular intervals, so much so that Jerome had almost gone deaf to it, but now that she was there, _in the flesh_ , it was as though he'd found a strange kind of fascination with the sound. It was no longer just noise, but a name - the name of something, someone, that he didn't quite understand and was all too eager to unravel and dissect. The boy leaned so that his back was resting against the wall, cocking his head slightly as he studied the woman before him - her delicate body was sprawled across the mattress clothed only in a white, oversized T-shirt and coal black boyshorts, her messy, blood red tresses had been tied back haphazardly, leaving a few strands to frame her pretty face. If nothing else, Abbie seemed to have fairly decent taste in women. He continued to watch the girl as she mumbled in her sleep, smirking when she would twitch and pull a pained look on her face every so often as she became more and more restless. Eventually, the ginger grew bored and decided that enough was enough - he hadn't ventured into her room simply to watch her sleep - and so he reached his arm out and proceeded to loudly knock a book off of the dresser beside him.

The girl stirred and gently rolled herself onto her back, slowly peeling her eyes open and blinking a few times as the room came into focus. Jerome had been momentarily distracted, having found what he could only assume was one of Greenwood's old pocket knives sitting atop the dresser - he plucked the blade up and began to twirl it in-between his fingers when he heard a soft, frightened gasp from the center of the room. Turning his attention back to Amelia, he barely stifled a laugh as he watched the small woman bolt upright, pulling herself to the far edge of the bed and drawing her knees up into her chest.

"Hi," He drawled, a sinister smile pulling at his lips as he shifted his position slightly so that the moonlight spilling in through the single window in the room illuminated his face.

Amelia swallowed thickly, her eyes locked onto the menacing figure before her. He was naturally fair-skinned and the current lighting in the room only seemed to emphasize this, though the area's around his eyes were dark and discolored from bruising.

"Do you need something?" She heard herself ask, her voice somewhat raspy.

"Nope."

She made a small sound of acknowledgment before allowing her eyes to flutter between the boys face and the weapon that he held in his hand.

"Then...can I ask what you're doing in here?"

"Sure can."

Silence fell between them for a moment before Amelia realized that he was actually waiting for her to ask.

"What are you doing in here?"

Jerome's smile grew as he pushed himself off of the wall and began to approach the cowering woman.

"You'd think that a place like this, being as swanky as it is, that it would have some decent sound-proofing, right? **Wrong**. Damn walls are paper thin, unfortunately. So you see, when I heard somebody come in here, I thought to myself 'Hm, that's strange", because well... I _just_ _killed_ the guy that used to stay in here, and so I figured maybe I'd - you know - come check things out."

"Oh," was all Amelia could think to say, a chill running down her spine as she took note of the gleeful look in the man's eye as he mentioned his transgression. He seemed genuinely pleased with himself as he stepped around the mattress, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Did you know that you talk in your sleep?" He asked abruptly, catching the girl off guard.

"No - wait, what? I...I do?"

"You do."

Jerome scooched closer only for the woman to attempt to push herself further away from him, her eyes fixed just past his face. Confused, he turned his head to follow her gaze, finding that she was staring at the knife that he still held in his hand.

"Oooh, I see," He giggled, tossing the knife over his shoulder, "Don't worry, doll - I'm not here to kill ya."

"Why not?" The stupid question slipped past her lips before she even had the chance to stop it.

It didn't seem to faze the boy much as he pulled his long legs up onto the bed, shifting so that he sat with his legs crossed, facing her directly.

"Eh, there's a number of reasons, but I suppose that if I had to pick one, it would have to be that I am just _dying_ to know who Troy is."

Amelia felt her chest instantly grow heavy at the mention of his name, her face fell as she felt the familiar sensation of tears prickling at her eyes.

"Sorry - _was_?" Jerome corrected himself, a cruel look of amusement creeping across his handsome face.

"That's none of your business."

"Aw, c'mon - I've heard everyone else's stories and I'm bored - you gotta give me _somethin'_ ," He whined.

"I really don't. And besides, my stories would bore you," She replied, hoping against all odds that he'd let it go. He didn't, of course.

"Try me."

An annoyed sigh slipped from Amelia's lips.

"I don't know what Abbie has told you or what it is that you think that you know about me, but trust me when I say that you will be sorely disappointed. You and I have _nothing_ in common -"

In an instant, the boy was on top of her, straddling her as he placed his hand firmly against the wall, trapping her in with his arm. He peered down at her dangerously, his face so close to hers that she could feel his hot breath brush against her skin.

"Ooh, kitten - I'm not so sure about all that. You see, I like to think I've got a kind of... _sixth sense_ , that I can get a pretty good read on people pretty easily and honey - there is _something_ _about_ **_you_**. You can try to deny it all you want, ignore those ugly parts of yourself that you don't like, and try to pretend that they don't exist, but I've got some bad news for ya sweetheart - they **do** exist and no matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to wish 'em away."

Amelia titled her head upwards, flinching lightly as she felt the tip of her nose brush against his cold skin. She met his gaze and did the best that she could to hold it.

"So…," He continued after she remained silent, his voice a low growl, "Why don't you tell me a story I haven't heard?"

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! So I figured that this chapter, being centered around this interaction between Jerome and Amelia, that I would kind of split it into two parts (part two should be uploaded hopefully within the next few days) - we're going to be learning some more background here shortly for the O.C's and I kind of wanted to split up the initial interaction that triggered the flashback or however you want to call it from the actual flashback itself. I was a bit anxious to attempt to write a bit where it was just Jerome and Amelia dealing with each other with no one else to act as a buffer between them and I really hope that you enjoyed it. I find myself constantly second-guessing myself whenever I write dialogue or really anything for Jerome - so, just so know I do try my best to try to get him right. I feel like he's someone who would take great pleasure in tormenting someone the way that he's kind of tormenting Amelia in this instance - he finds her fear amusing and doesn't care that he's prying into an area of her life that is clearly very painful for her - he wants her to tell him a story, to make her relive an obviously difficult time in her life, purely to sate his own curiosity/ for his own entertainment. He is also very, very interested to see what lies beneath the surface with her, so I'm actually fairly excited to put that together. Anyway, as always I apologize for any errors that I may have missed and thank you for reading - Feedback/Reviews are always greatly, greatly appreciated!**


	7. Part 1 Chapter 7

_**Three Years Earlier**_

 _Every last cell in her body quaked as she fought to keep down the warm, putrid liquid that was threatening to creep back up her throat, leaving a burning trail and an acidic, bitter taste in her mouth. Her small hands clutched desperately at the sides of the porcelain bowl before her, almost as if she believed it would genuinely steady her – she knew better than that, though. No force on planet Earth would be capable of comforting her; not that day. She liked to tell herself that everything had simply happened so fast that she couldn't exactly determine how things had gotten as far as they had, but it had been_ _ **years**_ _. Indeed, nearly four years had come and gone since she had scrawled her phone number onto that tissue in the bathroom and now Amelia found herself carefully hunched over a toilet in a cramped bathroom dressed in a beautiful, white gown. As a child she, like many little girls, had envisioned this day over and over again, though this was nothing like what she had initially had in mind – no; she reasoned that her nine-year-old self would likely be terribly disappointed if she knew how her wedding day really turned out._

 _All of a sudden, there came a sharp knock at the door of the dressing room. Panicked, Amelia struggled to push herself to her feet before she felt a large, warm hand close gently around her arm, helping her up. It was Troy – he was wearing a fine-looking gray suit, his soft black hair parted neatly – a look of concern etched across his thin face. She was truly grateful to have him in her life, she considered, as she looked up into his pale green eyes – somehow, by the grace of whatever all-powerful being there was, she had managed to find this beautiful man, befriend him, and not chase him away. He would be hard to scare off, she thought, there was not too much that really seemed to bother him._

 _"I see you invited yourself in, ya little shit. What if I had been naked?" Amelia said facetiously, smoothing her hands down her body to straighten the fabric of her dress as she hoped to lighten the mood a little. Maybe he didn't feel it, she considered, there were numerous reasons people threw up, right?_

 _"Well first, to answer your question: that would admittedly be awesome for me, but only for about two seconds before I'd remember that you're getting married today – Second, and more importantly: what's goin' on in here, toots? You feelin' alright?"_

 _She wanted to scowl and jab the man in his ribs – he was well aware of her feelings towards the 'T' word, but the way that he was looking at her made it difficult for her to be too frustrated with him. She never had to doubt for a second that her friend cared for her – everything about the way he spoke, the way he looked, and the things he did screamed of how much she meant to him and she wished with all of her heart to be able to return the favor, but there was no way that she ever could. Not without it being taken the wrong way – Abbie, as it turned out, had a bit of a jealous streak – one sideways glance and there would be hell to pay._

 _"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just nerves," She sighed, forcing a thoroughly unconvincing smile across her face._

 _Troy stepped closer – using his long arms, he reached out and pulled the lid of the toilet closed before motioning for his friend to take a seat._

 _"I don't believe you," He said frankly, "Tell me what's up."_

 _"Nothing," Amelia insisted, the crack in her voice giving her away._

 _"Mellie...please. Tell me what's wrong."_

 _Shaking her head softly, she sat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she drew in as much air as her lungs could take. She hated how he could always see right through her._

 _"I dunno, Troy. I really don't...I mean, what am I even doing? Like, everything has just been so fucked up and yet here we are and we're pretending like everything is fine and that all of these horrible things haven't happened but they did and no amount of time that we put in between us and them and no matter how many happy things we force...these things will never not have happened and...I don't know. I love her, Troy...I really, really do but just being around her makes me feel like my soul is being torn apart."_

 _Amelia clasped her icy, trembling hand over her mouth as the torrent of words that spilled from her lips finally ceased. He looked at her, wide-eyed and confused – she knew that he had no idea what she was talking about and though she wished that she could tell him all about the awful things that she had been through, she knew better. There were certain things that there just wasn't any coming back from..._

 _"Wow...I mean - What do you mean? What kind of things are you talkin' about?" He inquired, still trying to process what she had said._

 _"Just...forget it. I can't talk about it," She answered quietly, her face growing hot as she felt the pressure building behind her eyes. She immediately regretted having said anything, she knew that he loved her too much to let it go but telling him anything would do neither one of them much good._

 _"You **can't** talk about it or you **won't**?" _

_"Both."_

 _"Jesus, Amelia," He sighed angrily, "W-why are you even marrying her? Can I ask you that? If you're in here, feeling like this, literally making yourself sick over whatever the hell is going on here...why?"_

 _The diminutive woman shrugged weakly._

 _"I dunno. I'm afraid, I guess."_

 _Troy's face dropped abruptly, becoming like stone as he crouched so that he was face-to-face with Amelia._

 _"Afraid of what?" He asked, an edge to his voice, "She ever hurt or threaten you? Cause you know I've got friends down at the precinct and they can be here quicker than you can say 'shit' – just say the word."_

 _The girl laughed dryly._

 _"No. No, it's nothing like that."_

 _He quirked an eyebrow._

 _"C'mon, I know Abbie, too. I know that she can be pretty... **intense** , sometimes. So, let me ask you again – are you afraid of her?"_

 _Yes!_

 _"No," Amelia replied, swallowing back tears._

 _"Then what is it? Is it her father – I know he's a rat bastard but I thought you said he took off a couple years back? Good-for-nothin' son of a bitch probably's gone and got himself killed by now."_

 _She knew that he meant well enough, but his words cut through her in a way that she wasn't even aware was possible. All of the inner-strength that she had mustered to keep her emotions at bay crumbled in seconds and she sat before her friend as a sobbing mess. He instantly stopped his prying, opting instead to wrap his arms tightly around her delicate body and hold her close._

 _"Shhhh – it's okay, darlin', I promise. It's fine. Y-You don't have to tell me a thing, just...do whatever is right for **you** , alright? Do that much for me, will ya?" _

_Amelia nodded lightly before a figure caught her eye from just beyond the threshold of the bathroom. It felt like her heart seized inside of her chest as she came to realize that it was Abbie, and she did not look pleased to find her friends in an embrace. The redhead cleared her throat and gently pushed her friend away from her. Turning, Troy took note of the brunette and quickly stood to his full height and stepped forward, doing his best to block the bride-to-be from view._

 _"Hey, Abs – what're you doin' in here?" He asked casually._

 _"What do you think, dipshit?" She shot, glaring up at his towering form._

 _The dark haired man laughed._

 _"Yeah, guess that's a pretty dumb question, eh? But hey – we better scram cause you've gotta get yourself all ready to go and Mellie's gotta get herself situated and then...well, then we can go get you two hitched," He suggested enthusiastically, though no one was really buying it._

 _Abigail bobbed her head before attempting to push past him, but falling short. He was much bigger and stronger than she was and unfortunately, she was unarmed._

 _"Can I see her for a second?" She huffed._

 _"Nah – Sorry, but it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. You know that."_

 _Rolling her eyes, Abbie gave in – they had a schedule to keep and she was not about to waste time arguing with her lover's shitty little friend. She reasoned that soon enough they would have the rest of their lives to spend together and that she could forgo the few minutes that she craved to have with her before the ceremony. A feeling of relief washed over Amelia as she watched the other woman leave, raising her eyes to meet his as Troy turned to take one last look back at her before stepping out himself._

 _"We're on the first floor and you're small enough to get through any of these windows. Remember that. You don't have to go through with this."_

 _And with that he left._

 _She should have taken his advice._

* * *

"Awww, he sounds sweet," The psychopath crooned mockingly before allowing his voice to shift back into it's normal, boyish yet menacing tone, "So why'd you do it?"

Amelia shot him a puzzled look before it clicked in her mind what he meant.

"I didn't," She answered simply, doing her best to suppress the smirk that wanted to form on her lips as the boys shoulders slumped with disappointment.

"What? What the hell was the point in telling me all of that then?" He asked, mildly exasperated.

"I thought that you said that you already knew everybody else's stories?" She questioned as she cocked her head to the side, not knowing where this tiny surge of confidence was coming from, though thankful for it nonetheless.

"I do. Well...mostly, anyways" He admitted with a sly smile, like he had been caught doing something naughty.

"Then you should know this one."

Jerome squinted his eyes at her for a moment, racking his brain for a few seconds before he responded.

"Abbie," He breathed.

"Yeah," Amelia confirmed bitterly, "Abbie."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! I'm sorry this took longer to post than I had initially anticipated. Had some stuff happen and then my computer went haywire so I had to get a new one. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter – I know I love writing interactions with Jerome and of course, being a Jerome fic I promise that there will be plenty of that but there is also a lot of backstory for Amelia that needs to be covered and I really hope that you guys are enjoying that aspect of this as well. We're beginning to scratch the surface of all of that and I'm fairly excited about it. So while I'm sure at least some of you probably pieced it together a bit before this update, Amelia and Abbie are an item – more than that, they're married, although the foundation of that, as any of you could probably guess, is a bit precarious. It's a tumultuous mess of a relationship and I'm kind of pumped to see how not only Amelia and Abbie try to navigate it, but how Jerome will, for lack of a better term, fuck with it. Anyways, as always, I apologize for any errors that I may have missed and I sincerely hope that you enjoyed this update and if you did please, please leave _feedback/review_ – it makes my day to hear from you guys! Thanks for reading! **


	8. Part 1 Chapter 8

**Chapter Warning: Violence, Death**

* * *

Amelia watched as the ginger lunatic shifted slightly, pulling back just the tiniest amount as his jaw fell open in faux-shock - although of course he was completely aware of Abbie's little mishaps, she had left out virtually all of the details. She was quite talented at skirting around those subjects that made her uncomfortable, which provided some small degree of entertainment when they had been locked up in Arkham – the few times that he had caught the staff trying to speak to her about what she had done or how her loved ones were affected by it, they would get extremely frustrated with her. Jerome often wondered how far she could push them with her incessant avoidance but alas, none of them ever reached their breaking point – at least not from what he had witnessed. Placing a hand on the side of his face, he allowed it to slowly slide down, pulling lightly at his soft skin.

"That _bitch_ ," He hissed flippantly.

It wasn't funny, and she knew that. She knew that she should not laugh nor give this man any kind of encouragement, and yet a little giggle pushed its way past her lips nevertheless. She instantly wanted to take it back, seeing the way the boys eyes lit up as the barely audible sound reached his ears. The situation that she was in, the story that she had been goaded into telling, neither one of them were things that she took lightly – they were both dreadful and she wanted nothing more than to put them behind her.

"Well go on," He urged, "Tell me what happened."

Amelia sighed and attempted to adjust herself so that she sat in a more comfortable position, but found it to be a nearly impossible feat with Jerome on top of her.

"No, look – I'm tired and it's like three in the morning. Maybe another time."

Jerome scoffed.

"Yeah? Like you got somewhere to be tomorrow? Please."

The girl rolled her eyes and pushed her hands gently against his hard chest, ignoring the tiny rush the coursed through her as she laid her palms upon the fabric of his shirt.

"Could you please at least get off of me? You're heavier than you look and I'm starting to feel a little cramped," She asked quietly, her eyes searching his as she awaited his response.

He paused for a minute, honestly a little surprised that she had dared to lay her hands on him – she was such a petite, timid little creature that he was quite sure that her heart would literally burst at any moment from fear. When that didn't happen, however, he bobbed his head and crawled off of her, situating himself next to her on the mattress with his hands clasped neatly in his lap.

"Thank you," She said, arching her back, causing the distinct sound of bones cracking and popping to ripple throughout the small room.

"Welcome," He replied shortly, impatient for her to get on with her tale, "Now continue."

"Right," She exhaled, "Well, let's just cut to the chase then, shall we?"

* * *

 _**Eighteen Months Earlier**_

 _"Hey, kid – could ya stop runnin' around like a maniac and come give me a hug or somethin'? C'mon it's been months!" Troy called out to her, a laugh in his voice as he watched the tiny woman scurry about the house, her hands and shirt caked in flour and various spices._

 _She and Abbie had just moved into a modest home in Gotham City and Amelia was struggling to remember where she had put everything. She hadn't planned as well as she probably could have – she knew that he was going to be stopping by that day and she had anticipated having a nice dinner ready for them both, but of course he had to show up right in the middle of all of the chaos of her throwing it together. She ceased her frantic movements and turned on her heel, looking upon her very best friend who had propped himself up against the wooden trim of the doorway that led from the kitchen into the living room. She was so proud of him – standing there looking handsome in his suit and tie – he had received a big promotion at work a few months back that had forced him to relocate to Metropolis, which kind of sucked for her, but all-in-all she was extremely happy for him._

 _"I'll ruin your suit," She giggled, taking steps towards him nonetheless._

 _He smiled kindly before pushing off and approaching her._

 _"Fuck it. It's just a suit," He said, reaching out and taking Amelia by the arm._

 _He pulled her into his chest and held her, his smile broadening when he felt her thin arms snake around him as well. She had missed him so much, yet she had had to keep those feeling buried deep within herself for the sake of keeping peace with her significant other - being wrapped up in his arms, however, seemed to have obliterated those walls that she had put up to mask how she truly felt and she began to cry._

 _"Hey, hey – what's goin' on down there? You alright, champ?" He cooed, placing his hands on either side her head, tilting it up so that he could see her face._

 _"Yeah, I'm fine. I just...I missed you...a lot. And I kind of hate my life sometimes, but mostly I just missed you," She answered, raising a hand up to wipe at her face._

 _Troy looked down at his friend knowingly, a sad smile taking form on his thin lips._

 _"You know you don't have to stay here, don't you?"_

 _"Oh, no it's – I mean, I_ _ **do**_ _love her, Troy -"_

 _"I'm not saying that you don't, but just because you love something doesn't mean it ain't toxic. You can come with me – get a new start in a new place far, far away from here and from her. I'll take care of ya, it'll be good."_

 _Amelia wanted to say yes in the worst possible way – she wanted to drop everything that she was doing, throw all of her shit in a bag, and hop in his car and never look back. Surely_ _ **some**_ _things could be that easy, right? Maybe it was just that she had a tendency to over-complicate matters and all that was really holding her back was simply herself. She offered him a little smirk, but could not will herself to give him an honest answer._

 _"You're too good to me, you know that?" She almost whispered, lacing her fingers in-between his._

 _"You're damn right I am," He teased, winking at her playfully before leaning in and resting his forehead against hers._

 _Amelia closed her eyes, enjoying the moment as they stayed in that position – neither of them speaking, they simply relished in the feeling of being near to one another before a sickening wet, piercing sound drew her back. She felt Troy's body stiffen for an instant before slumping onto the linoleum below - a long, serrated kitchen knife poking through the front of his neck as blood seeped from his mouth. It felt as though everything inside of her had come to a halt as she gazed down in horror at the man on the floor before she dared to raise her eyes up to face his assailant. There she found Abigail, glaring down at her friend before she quickly flicked her dark orbs up to meet her blue ones._

 _"We need to talk," Abbie stated lowly, stepping over the body at her feet as though it meant nothing to her._

 _Amelia shook her head frantically, unable to conjure her voice as she backed away from the murderous figure in front of her. Reaching out, she wrapped her fingers around a small, red steak knife that she had left out on the counter top._

 _"Babe," The brunette tried again soothingly as she advanced on the pale, petite woman, "I need you to calm down. We're gonna have to move him and I can't clean this mess up by myself."_

 _The redhead stared at her spouse in disbelief, only blinking a few times once she came to the realization that tears had unwittingly managed to squeeze out and coat her cheeks. She wasn't sure what exactly it was that drove her to do what she did next, though she later reasoned that she had more than enough cause for her actions._

 _Without warning, Amelia lunged forward, screaming as she plunged the knife into Abbie's chest with as much force as she could put behind it. The other woman was stunned, clutching at the foreign object that had been embedded into her flesh before a hard fist smashed into the side of her skull, causing her to collapse. Taking the opportunity, Amelia fled - running out into the driveway, she hopped into her car and tore out of there as quickly as she could. She soon found herself stumbling into the Gotham City Police Department - the place was chaotic, so much so that she considered that they were likely far too busy to even take any notice of her. Fortunately, she was wrong._

 _"Hey there – somethin' I can help you with, Miss?" A young, rough voice called out to her. There was a gentleness to it that comforted her as she managed to pin-point it's source: An athletically built man with strong features and short, sandy blonde hair._

 _She nodded, doing her best to choke back her sobs as the gravity of what had just happened finally began to hit her._

 _"Please," Was the only word she could manage._

 _A look of concern crossing his face, the man approached her, resting his hand gently on her back as he motioned for her to come with him._

 _"Come on with me," He spoke softly, "Name's Jim, by the way. Can you tell me yours?"_

 _"A-Amelia."_

 _"Amelia," He repeated, "Well, it's nice to meet you. Here, have a seat."_

 _The diminutive girl obliged, taking a seat at a large, wooden desk as she watched the man pull up a chair from an empty one across the way._

 _"So, Amelia," He began, his eyes burning into hers, "Why don't you tell me why you're here?"_

* * *

"Oooh," Jerome giggled cruelly, "Ratted on wifey, didja?"

"Yup," Amelia replied unapologetically.

"That's **cold**."

"Not as cold as murdering my best friend right in front of my _fucking_ face," The girl spat bitterly.

The boy grinned, believing that he had caught the slightest glimpse of whatever kind of monster lived inside of this small woman. He had no concrete proof – hell, he had just met her – but somehow he _knew_ that there was more to her than what was plainly visible on the surface. He figured it might be buried deep, deep inside of her but there was a definite darkness there, he could _feel_ it.

"No, I suppose not," He said with a laugh, "But it makes me wonder about you a bit."

"Yeah?" She questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah – Clearly something was amiss long before you two ladies took the plunge; your boy had noticed and you all but admitted to it yourself. So...what was it?"

Amelia shook her head lightly, sliding her body down the bed and pulling the covers up around her shoulders as she worked to get comfortable.

"Another time, maybe. I'm going to sleep."

She felt his weight shift on the mattress and soon found herself face-to-face with him once more. He studied her for a minute as he laid beside her, contemplating whether or not he wanted to press the issue any further that night before deciding that perhaps giving her a little space would net better results.

"Fine, but this conversation ain't over," He answered lowly before pushing himself up off of the bed and making for the door. Turning, he looked at Amelia's small, curled up form one final time before twisting and pulling the knob open, offering her some parting words as he stepped out.

"Sleep tight, kitten."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! It may have taken a few chapters but there you have it: Jerome and Amelia's first solo interaction. I don't really have a whole lot to say this time so, I really hope that you enjoyed this update, as always I'm terribly sorry for any mistakes I may have missed, and if you would please be so kind, feedback/reviews are always greatly appreciated!**


	9. Part 1 Chapter 9

The air itself seemed suffocatingly thick as Amelia stared vacantly into the colorless, plaster ceiling above, her mind somehow managing to be a chaotic whirlwind and an absolute void all at once – not entirely unlike a radio caught somewhere betwixt stations with a whole lot of static in-between. Three days had passed since she had been dragged into this nightmare and beside Abbie's periodic visits, her only other human contact had been with that red-haired kid – 'Jerome', she believed Theo had called him. She hadn't seen nor heard from him since her first night at the penthouse and she found that she had strangely mixed feelings about that; on one hand, he had been surprisingly easy to talk to, all things considered – she supposed that it may have been because he was really in no position to judge her too harshly for her violent past – and yet, on the other hand, the boy utterly terrified her. She was frightened of him for a number of reasons, she considered, the foremost being that she got the distinct impression that he may be a bit of a loose cannon and God help her should she ever be unfortunate enough to find herself on the receiving end of that, but she was also deeply unnerved by his bizarre charm. She found him to be oddly alluring and that thought alone was enough to turn her stomach. Nevertheless, she had to admit that the conversation that they had shared on that first night, regardless of how badly she had not wanted to have it, had been mildly therapeutic for her – she had never really spoken with anybody about her dreadful past, at least not with someone that she could be _completely_ honest with, and she almost felt a little lighter having let a small amount of it go. He hadn't made her feel like she was being judged, he hadn't made her feel guilty, and while she knew that that was simply due to the fact that he had no dog in that fight, so to speak, she appreciated it nonetheless. In spite of the fact that Amelia stood behind her decision to turn Abigail in for her heinous crime, there was undoubtedly still a part of her that felt atrocious for doing it - especially considering all that Abbie had done for her, not just in the years that they had known each other up until that point, but the little things that she had done for her within the past few days as well. She had made it a point to bring food and water up to her three times a day, cracking the door open just enough for her to weasel the tray into the room before leaving Amelia to do whatever it was that she was doing; Abbie made no attempt to try to force her to talk or to get her to leave the bedroom, knowing the girl well enough to be able to discern when it was time to give her some space.

It had gone on for long enough, though, Amelia reasoned – it was high time for her to drag herself out of bed and pull her shit together, as best as she could given the circumstances, anyway. No situation was ever made better by sitting idle, and hers certainly wouldn't be the exception. Her small body felt as though it had been filled with concrete as she pushed herself up and off of the bed, wincing when the cold floor met the bottoms of her bare feet. Venturing out into main area of the penthouse, she was somewhat surprised to find that she was completely alone; an eerie silence buzzed in her ears as she listened intently for any signs of life other than herself, only to find nothing. Cautiously, she began to explore her new home, finding a nice kitchen with granite counter tops and a small utility room for laundry with a sizable pile of soiled clothing that had obviously gone untouched for some time. Rolling her eyes, Amelia trudged over to the mound and began to sort through it. It beat staring holes into the ceiling, she supposed, as she lifted the lid to the washing machine, tossing in a heap of dark-colored garments. She considered for a moment that perhaps things wouldn't be so bad if they would just allow her to hang around, do laundry, and fix boo-boo's, but she got the feeling that that was not what Galavan had had in mind when he told her that she could be of use to them. She shook her head as though it would actually clear her mind – she didn't want to think about that, not now anyway. Amelia pressed her finger firmly against the start button on the machine, smiling a little when it chirped out in a small tune before it began to work; her smile quickly fell, however, when she came to the realization that she now had to wait for that load to be done before she could continue on with that task – she'd have to find some other way to entertain herself in the meantime.

Carrying herself out into the kitchen, she glanced up at the digital clock on the stove to find that it read "5:45" - she chuckled quietly to herself as she thought that she must resemble a moody teenager hiding away in their room until the middle of the day. Walking over to the refrigerator, Amelia pulled open the freezer and examined it's contents - finding ice cubes, frozen chicken breast, and not much else. She was hungry, though, and she supposed that she would simply have to make the best of what she had, so she pulled the meat from the freezer and placed it in the sink to thaw. An hour passed, and in that time Amelia had managed to complete one load of laundry, start another, and begin preparing what would probably be a decent enough dinner. She had found some vegetables and rice and figured that she could make a stir-fry-like dish. She was carefully chopping up some peppers when she heard the front door swing open and heavy footfalls thump against the hard floor – placing the knife down, she watched as a disheveled Jerome and a giant wall of a man rounded the corner into the living room area, frowning deeply when she noticed that the younger man was virtually covered from head to toe in what looked like blood and dirt. Running a filthy hand through the fiery tousled mess atop his head, Jerome regarded the girl with pleasant surprise.

"Well, hiya, princess," He beamed, quickly stepping around the counter to stand beside her, "Whatcha up to?"

Amelia looked up at him - thrown by his uncharacteristic friendliness, she blinked a few times as she tried to convince herself not to worry about whatever the hell it was that he had done to end up covered in...well, whatever it was that he was covered in.

"Making dinner," She answered flatly.

"Ooh, good! I'm starving."

The ginger began to reach out toward the bowl of chopped up vegetables when Amelia shot her hand out and swatted him away. Quirking an eyebrow, he turned his gaze back to her, wordlessly demanding that she explain herself.

"You're a fucking mess," She stated frankly, looking him over, "You can have some food, but clean yourself up first – I don't want to end up eating whatever _that_ is."

Jerome stepped closer, leaning in so that his forehead was practically resting against hers, though his closeness did not seem to faze her much this time - his lack of restraint when it came to invading personal space had been made abundantly clear in the small amount of time that they had spent together, so she simply met his gaze and waited for him to speak.

"You mean _'_ **Who** ever that _was_ '," He corrected lowly, sneering down at the petite woman before his demeanor abruptly shifted - he backed away and straightened himself out, his voice returning to normal, "But I **do** get your point – eating bits of people was Greenwood's thing, not mine – I'll, uh, go wash up. "

"Thank you," She spoke quietly, doing her utmost to conceal her discomfort and ignore what he had just said.

"Yeah, yeah – just don't burn the food."

With that, he turned and darted across the living room and up the spiral stairs toward the bathroom, leaving Amelia to stand in silence with the goliath-like man, who seemed like he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

"Do you know where the others are?" She asked him after a few minutes.

The man shook his head.

"Do you know what they were going to do?"

"Yeah," He answered quietly.

"Do I want to know?" She inquired, though she could have guessed his response.

"Uhm...I don't think so," He replied slowly, as though it required a significant amount of thought.

"Yeah, you're probably right about that," She muttered as she moved around the counter and walked over to the utility room.

Sifting through the pile of freshly cleaned and folded clothing, Amelia managed to find a top and bottom that looked to be roughly Jerome's size and draped them over her arm before turning on her heel and heading toward the stairs. Her luck, the boy would clean himself up but remain in his grimy outfit and she did not anticipate that he would take too well to her asking him to do yet another thing before feeding him.

"Goin' upstairs for a minute – yell if you need me, okay?" She called out to the man who had taken a seat at one of the couches and was fiddling with the remote – he offered only a small nod in response.

Amelia speedily climbed the stairs and trotted down the hallway toward the door at the very end – Jerome's bedroom – the corner of her mouth turning up slightly as she heard him whistling in the shower as she passed by the lavatory. Reaching out, she gently pushed the door open – she found that his room was surprisingly clean for somebody who came off as being so... _chaotic_. Sure, there were a few odds and ends strewn about, but it was not nearly as disorganized as she had expected it would be. Placing the clothes at the foot of his bed – which had been _made_ , much to her astonishment – she almost didn't notice the sound of footsteps creeping up behind her. Turning toward the sound, Amelia was greeted with the sight of Jerome – he stood just inside of the doorway, a white towel slung low around his hips as his hair dripped tiny beads of water down onto his ghostly skin. His body was not horribly muscular, but lean and well defined with little scars here and there from God-knows-what. She hadn't realized that she had been all but openly gawking at the man until she heard him clear his throat.

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart," He teased, a smug grin plastered across his face.

Amelia felt her cheeks go hot and she smacked herself internally.

"Sorry," She mumbled, "I kinda zoned out. I wasn't...I wasn't looking at you."

He cocked his head at her, clearly not believing her words. She couldn't blame him for that, it had been a pathetic attempt. No one with any kind of sense would have found her convincing in that moment.

" _Sure_ ," He smirked, "So, you wanna tell me what you're doin' in here?"

She bobbed her head, thankful that he had dropped the issue so quickly.

"I, uh, I thought that you could probably use some clean clothes, so I brought some up"

"Ah," Was all he said.

They stood in awkward silence for a second before Amelia finally decided to excuse herself.

"Should probably get back to making dinner then," She said as she made to move past him, flustered when he turned his body just the tiniest amount to allow her passage. She could feel him staring down at her, an amused look upon his face as he took in her apparent frustration.

Once she stepped out into the hallway, Jerome swung the door shut behind her and she breathed a sigh of relief. She told herself that she would have to make it a point in the future to try to limit her contact with him –

Unfortunately, she had no idea yet how impossible that would be.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! So, I know that this chapter is a bit of a filler I suppose, but I just kind of wanted to give you guys an idea as to where Amelia is at mentally/emotionally at this point. It has been a few days and she has basically started to reach the point where, regardless of the fact that she hates that this is her reality, she realizes that she needs to accept it, at least a little bit, and not stew in despair because of it because that will do absolutely nothing for her. I also wanted to show that she is feeling a bit conflicted in regards to Jerome - she obviously doesn't know him very well, but she knows that he is bad fucking news - however, he's also the first and only person that she has been able to speak to about her past and do so openly and not in like a legitimate interrogation-type situation or something of that nature, and that was very refreshing and good for her on some level, so she kind of craves to have more of that, though she knows that that is a stupid fucking idea and would almost certainly be a mistake. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this update and I apologize for any errors I may have missed, I'll do my best to update again soon, though I am going on vacation here in a few days and can't guarantee exactly how fast I'll be able to get this next chapter up. The dream is to update once a week, and I'll try to stick to that as best I can. Anyway, thank you for reading and if you would be so kind, reviews/feedback are always greatly appreciated!**


	10. Part 1 Chapter 10

An eerie silence permeated the penthouse as Amelia begrudgingly finished setting the table for dinner, the only sound being the light clanking of the plates and silverware against the glass tabletop as she placed them. She had hardly gotten everything sorted before the giant man that had accompanied Jerome pushed past her and plopped down unceremoniously into one of the chairs. The girl decided to take the spot opposite of him, slowly picking at her food while she watched in amazement as he shoveled heaping tablespoons of rice into his mouth. Her attention was torn away from the sight before her, however, when she noticed the fiery haired boy practically hopping down the steps; he quickly approached and, despite there being numerous vacant seats, took the one right next to her. She continued to eat her food, doing her best to ignore how uncomfortable she felt being in such close proximity to Jerome, while counting her lucky stars that he seemed content enough to _not_ mention the awkward run-in that they had had upstairs just a few minutes before. The three sat together, wordlessly consuming their meals before the sound of the front door swinging open and closed disturbed the quiet. Tabitha, Barbara, and Abbie rounded the corner into the room, and while the first two women were entirely uninterested in whatever was happening with the small group at the table, Abigail stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of them. Amelia swallowed hard; she could feel the brunette's eyes burning into the side of her head, knowing almost instinctively that it was Abbie without even looking. It was as if she could _feel_ her presence - the closer she would get, the more agitated the red haired woman would feel, her blood would run cold…

"Makin' new friends?" Abbie asked, an edge to her voice as she flicked her eyes between her and Jerome, who naturally was sitting a bit too close for comfort.

"Nope," Amelia answered nonchalantly, not really giving a shit if she offended the men, "Got hungry and they just kind of showed up."

"Mm," The olive-skin woman started again, "It's just that the two of you look kinda... _cozy_."

Jerome opened his mouth to speak, but Amelia beat him to the punch.

"Ooh, we're **not**."

"Speak for yourself, gorgeous," The boy teased, offering her a flirtatious wink, being sure to make it painfully obvious to Abigail.

Amelia rolled her eyes; she hoped that that would be the end of his involvement in the conversation - she really did not need him to help make matters any worse.

Abbie glared at Jerome as she stepped forward.

"Is he bothering you, baby?' She asked, returning her attention to the girl.

"Pfft, not as much as this fuckin' conversation," The pale woman replied bluntly, "If you've got something you wanna say Abbie, just get to the damn point."

The other woman sighed loudly, resting a hand on her hip.

"Look, Amelia - I know that you're mad at me -"

"Yeah, that's an understatement."

"But it's been like...a year and a half! I get that you're pissed but you can't be mad at me forever!"

"Wanna bet?" Amelia replied dryly.

Abbie's shoulders slumped a little - she had seen Amelia mad before, but never anything like this. She had been absolutely unmovable and it was beginning to make the brunette angry.

"You know," She started, feeling a familiar sense of rage coursing throughout her body, "I've been good to you, Amelia - like, _really_ fucking good to you. I've taken care of you and protected you for _years_ , and here I am, still doing that same shit even after you fucking turned me in for offing that conniving son of a bitch -"

At that point, Amelia stood, pushing the chair back violently as she rose to her full height.

"He was my fucking _friend_ , you psychotic little bitch!" She growled, her whole demeanor shifting into something dark and dangerous.

"He was forcing himself on you!"

"No, he wasn't. And even if that _had_ been the case, what you did was **not** the way to handle it."

A cruel, piercing laugh tore past Abbie's lips.

"Ooh, that's rich coming from you," She responded lowly.

Jerome watched the scene before him unfold with childlike amusement, eager to see the redhead get aggressive. He was disappointed however, when she merely clenched her fists and stormed off, making her way towards the sliding glass door of the balcony.

The cold air bit at Amelia's bare skin as she stepped out onto the spacious stone patio - the sun had just begun to dip beyond the horizon, leaving the sky to bleed with brilliant shades of orange and pink in the distance. It was astoundingly beautiful and although the girl could recognize it's splendor, she found that she could not truly appreciate it; she longed to be back home in her own room surrounded by her own things - or just about anywhere else that wasn't where she _actually_ was - but she figured that so long as she had no say in the matter, she might as well try to make the best of what she had been dealt. And so she _had_ tried - she had climbed out of that God-forsaken bedroom and done something; even if it wasn't much she felt that it had been at least a start, but then Abbie showed up and had to open her damn mouth. She could almost understand her wife's frustration - she knew all too well how Abbie had bent over backwards time and time again to try to help her - but what Abigail didn't understand, and maybe she simply _couldn't_ understand, was how much pain she had caused Amelia. She had taken her whole life and everything that she thought that she was and ripped it apart, turning it into something grotesque. She couldn't even hate her for that, however, as she could not deny her hand in allowing it to happen - and that, perhaps, was the most vexing part of it all.

Pressing her back against the brick wall behind her, she allowed herself to slide down until she was seated in the far corner, her legs stretched out in front of her as the wind rustled through her hair. It took quite awhile, but she eventually began to feel a sense of calm wash over her - her argument with Abbie feeling as though it were slipping further and further away as she sat alone, breathing in the cool, fresh air. The sound of the door sliding open, however, caused a familiar sinking feeling to return in her chest, though it was short-lived as she took note of who it was that had decided to join her. She shifted uncomfortably as her eyes fell upon the red-haired madman, clad in a pair of dark jeans, a gray t-shirt, and an unzipped black hoodie - he had his back turned to her as he pulled the door closed. Turning his head, she could see a cigarette poking out from between the boys lips as he offered her a small half-nod, acknowledging her presence. She was almost surprised for a moment as he didn't seem the type to smoke in her opinion, though she quickly reminded herself that she knew virtually nothing about him and in any sense, she figured that perhaps even psychopaths required more than one outlet to take the edge of, so to speak.

Jerome strolled leisurely over to where the girl sat, staring down at her silently for a moment before he pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette. He took a seat next to her on the floor, staring out into the city before them as he took a long drag off of his smoke, his face expressionless. Amelia folded her hands in her lap and did her best to ignore the man beside her - although he had not uttered a word since he had stepped foot onto the balcony, she could not fathom that he had no intentions to prod or torment her in some way.

"Sooo," He began before turning his head to look at the girl, "How ya doin', doll?"

There it was.

Amelia cast him an annoyed sideways glance.

"Peachy, thanks," She answered sarcastically, "Now, what do you want?"

The corner of his mouth turned up just slightly at her response.

"Ooh, nothin'. Just wanted some fresh air is all."

"Oh, yeah? That's ironic," She replied, motioning toward the cigarette between his fingers.

He chuckled at that.

"Yeah, you might be on to somethin' there, toots. Want some?" He held his hand out, offering her the smoke as he watched her intently.

Her brows furrowed, yet she reached out and took his offer anyway, sucking in an absurd amount of smoke, feeling the harsh burn in her throat and lungs before she handed it back to him, ignoring the pleased look upon his face.

"Don't call me that," She said, doing her best to suppress a cough as she exhaled a gray, wispy cloud.

Ignoring her remark, he reached his hand out and plucked the cigarette from between her delicate fingers, making a bit more skin-contact than what was probably necessary, though she reasoned that it was likely that she was reading too far into it.

"That was almost impressive back there, ya know - the way you handled the Missus," He offered, though Amelia wasn't entirely sure that he meant it as a compliment.

"Yeah, _'nearly'_ being the operative word - I should've put her on her fuckin' ass."

"Now _that_ would've really been somethin'," He grinned.

She made a small sound in agreement.

The two sat in silence for a long while, the sun having completely disappeared from the sky leaving the light spilling out from inside as their only source. As cold as it had been when Amelia had first stepped out onto the balcony, it had become even worse as the night had progressed. Pulling her legs up into her chest, she wrapped her arms around her knees as a means to keep in a bit of warmth - she would go in eventually, but not quite yet. Ultimately, Jerome pushed himself to his feet.

"Well, it's about that time - I'm headin' back in if ya want to join," He said, giving her a once over and taking note of the goosebumps that had erupted on her arms. She was trembling a slight amount, as well.

"Nah," She answered, "Not yet."

The boy shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

He took a few steps toward the door before he stopped himself; turning on his heel, he once again regarded the tiny, freezing girl in the corner and rolled his eyes. Slipping the hoodie off of his shoulders, he balled it up in his hands and launched it at her, nearly hitting her in the face before it landed in her lap. She looked up at him, surprise and confusion etched across her pretty face.

 _Boy, was she pretty._

"Would be no fun if ya turned into a popsicle out here and died - ya just better give it back when you come back in, got it?"

Amelia nodded.

"Thank you," She replied sincerely as she pulled the hoodie over her shoulders, the fabric still warm from his body.

"Yeah, yeah - don't mention it," He said, waving her off as he pulled the door open and disappeared inside of the penthouse.

She stared at the empty spot where he had stood for a minute - he was such a strange kind of man - it was plain as day that the ginger was deranged and dangerous, but every so often it was almost as though there were just the tiniest flickers of humanity inside of him. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, she thought, or maybe that was all apart of his plan. From what she could tell, it was practically as if he could simply flip a switch inside of his head to go between batshit and normal, with no real way of discerning which version of the boy was the most genuine, though she strongly suspected that that was probably the way he liked it.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello from Tennessee, you guys! So I don't really have much to say this time other than that I'm pretty excited that I was able to actually get this chapter done - as I said last time, I am currently on vacation, so I kind of had to fit this in between all of the running around that we've been doing. That being said, I really hope that you enjoyed this chapter and that there aren't too many errors that I missed - I've read and reread it a few times to try to sift them out, but it's certainly possible that I missed some, and for that I apologize. Anyways, again I really hope that you enjoyed this update and I would really love to hear from you if you did!**


	11. Part 1 Chapter 11

The darkened, hazy skyline of Gotham gradually came back into view as Amelia groggily rubbed at her eyes, the frigid air nipping at her soft skin; she wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep or how much time had passed, though she guessed that it could not have been more than a couple of hours considering the still blackened sky. Pressing her palms into the hard surface below, she shifted her body so that she sat with her back resting against the exterior wall of the penthouse; drawing in a deep breath, she somehow managed to muster up the energy to finally climb to her feet and head inside, her body aching for warmth and comfort. Dragging the door shut behind her, Amelia quickly examined the main room searching for any indications that her roommates had hung around, breathing a sigh of relief when she found none. They all must have either cleared out or gone off to their rooms while she had slept, which was good – she wasn't particularly in the mood to deal with any of them. With a great amount of effort, she trudged up the spiral staircase and carried her tired frame down the hall and into her bedroom, swiftly closing the door and peeling the clothes from her body. Finding the large, white t-shirt that she had grown accustomed to sleeping in over the past few days waded up at the foot of her bed, she lifted it to her face and gave a small sniff, making sure it hadn't accrued an odor before slipping it on and climbing beneath the covers. She tossed and turned for a few minutes, repositioning herself multiple times before finding a comfortable spot – unfortunately, it was only _then_ that she noticed the black sweatshirt that she had placed on top of the dresser, remembering that a certain lunatic had requested that she return it upon coming back in from the balcony. Amelia pressed her eyelids together and cursed under her breath – she truly considered for a moment whether or not she should just wait until morning and run the risk of potentially incurring the ginger's wrath - she came to the conclusion, though, that if she were going to be maimed or killed, that she'd be damned if she would let it be over something as stupid as that.

Kicking the blankets off of her, the girl let out an annoyed huff before she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed the hoodie from the dresser, slinging it over her shoulder before stepping out into the hallway. She hadn't heard any noise coming from the other side of the wall when she had laid down and so she hoped that perhaps the boy had actually gone to bed at a somewhat reasonable time, though she figured that that was probably unlikely as she came to notice the light spilling out from the crack in the door at the end of the hall. She made her way towards the room as slowly and as quietly as she possibly could, feeling her heart-rate pick up just the smallest amount as she drew closer; she knew that the fear that she felt in regards to him was certainly justified – the man was a murderer and insane by his own admission, but more than that there was something about him and the way that he held himself when interacting with her - the few times that he had, anyway - that felt extremely... _off_. Everything about him was off, she reasoned, but she couldn't shake the distinct feeling that she was being fucked with. Coming to a stop just in front of the wooden door, Amelia sighed and ran her hand through her messy hair before softly rapping her knuckles against the hard surface.

"Jerome?" She called out quietly, pushing the door open just a smidge so as to get a better look inside when there was no answer.

She found him seated on the edge of the bed, eyebrows furrowed as he messed with a small, circular contraption – he was clearly very focused on whatever it was that he was working on, which was quite a relief to the girl, who thought that she would be able to just drop the hoodie off and go back to her own room without having to speak with him. She should have known better than to think that she would have that kind of luck.

"Just bringin' your hoodie back is all. G'night," She said, reaching her arm into the room and placing the piece of clothing on the back of the armchair that sat just off to the side of the entrance.

"Come in."

His voice sounded far away and indifferent, though it was abundantly clear that his words were not meant as an invitation, but rather as a demand.

Amelia felt her shoulders drop as she crossed the threshold into the boys room – she just wanted to fucking go to bed and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she did not have the mental or emotional stamina to endure whatever she assumed he wanted from her.

"Do you need something?" She inquired, maintaining what she figured might pass as being a safe distance.

Without as much as an upward glance he reached out and patted the spot beside him on the mattress, continuing to tinker with the strange device in his hand.

"Sit." He instructed.

"Why?"

His cold, green eyes flicked up at her, a look of irritation crossing the boys face before his lips curled into a small grin. While he did not appreciate being questioned, he found himself quite fascinated with the idea of this woman coming into her own, so to speak, and so he reasoned that that meant that he may have to allow her a pass every now and again, at least for the time being.

"I have questions."

Letting out a low, irritated groan, she obliged the man – not having the energy to fight as she took a seat next him, though she was careful to leave some space between them.

"What is that?" She asked, motioning towards the object in the his hand.

"Hm? Oh, this," He began, having already returned his attention to his work in spite of the girls presence, "A bomb, or well – will be, anyways."

Amelia gaped at him for a moment, not entirely convinced that she had heard him correctly.

"A bomb?"

"Mhm."

"As in an explosive?" She questioned, although his statement didn't really need clarification.

"No, the _other_ kind of bomb," He replied sarcastically, shooting the girl a look.

"Jesus Christ," She muttered, "What for?"

"It's a surprise," He beamed, though there seemed to be something sinister behind it.

"Goddamn it," The girl sighed, pushing her hand through her hair and tucking a section behind her ear. She was sure that any surprise, coming from him, would certainly be thoroughly unpleasant for her.

Abruptly, Jerome turned and - with a bit more flair than necessary - placed the would-be-bomb on the bedside table, causing a loud _thunk_ to ripple through the room. Amelia visibly flinched at the heavy-handed way in which he had handled the makeshift weapon and tried her best to suppress her irritation when he laughed at her reaction.

"You're too easy," He giggled maniacally.

"Yeah, I'm glad you find it funny."

"I do."

"Fantastic," She replied derisively, "So, is there something you wanted or can I go to bed now?"

"Ah, yeah," He started, his expression turning serious far too quickly, "Was gonna ask you earlier but you didn't seem like you were up to talkin' -"

"I'm still not."

"That last jab that Abbie made at you," He continued as though she hadn't said a thing, "What was it...oh! 'That's rich coming from you' – Care to elaborate?"

"Not particularly."

"Come on now, don't be a poor sport."

"Alright, look – my life isn't something you get to pick apart just because you're bored. Like, I get being interested and having questions and all that noise, but just so that we're clear, there **is** a fuckin' line, okay? If I want to tell you something, I will but if I don't...well then I don't and you need to kindly fuck off at that point," Amelia sounded significantly more confident in her words than what she really felt, but she reasoned that she had to at least _attempt_ to set some kind of boundaries with the ginger.

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a few minutes, considering what she had said before he ultimately offered a quick nod.

"Alright, then. Just one more thing though," He replied, his voice taking on a slight edge.

"What's that?"

"Why'd Abbie say that your boy was forcing himself on you?"

Amelia was taken aback by the question at first, though she eventually shrugged her shoulders.

"I dunno; she saw what she wanted to see in order to justify what she did, I guess."

The boy looked at her contemplatively.

"So, you and he weren't... _you know_?" He said, shooting a glance downward before returning to meet her gaze, wriggling his eyebrows a bit.

"What? No," She answered defensively.

"But you wanted to," It wasn't an assumption or a suggestion, he stated it as though it were a fact.

"No," Amelia retorted, "I was married – still am."

"That doesn't mean much," He scoffed.

"It does to me."

"Of course," The boy crooned mockingly, "Because you love her, right?"

The girl hesitated.

"Right," She replied.

A knowing smile spread across the man's face.

"Is that your final answer?"

Again she hesitated before offering only a nod in reply, which oddly enough seemed to please him.

"Let's test that shall we?" He smirked.

Before the girl even had time to properly react, Jerome was on her – roughly snatching both of her wrists together with one large hand and pressing them into the mattress above her head as he pinned her body beneath his own. His expression was dark and unreadable as his eyes danced across her face, studying her for a moment before he lowered his mouth to her neck. Softly ghosting his lips across her sensitive flesh, he only stopped every now and again to lightly nip at her skin, coaxing small whines from the woman, though she fought hard to stifle them.

"Tell me you love your wife," He hissed lowly, pressing his mouth to her ear as he dared her to lie to him again; he trailed his free hand along the inside of her smooth, bare leg, slowly inching towards her center.

Amelia opened her mouth to respond but, much to her chagrin, was only able to produce a whimper as she felt the lunatic swiftly return his attention to her neck, sucking a deep red mark into her pale skin.

"That's what I thought," He chuckled upon hearing her, quickly biting down on her earlobe before continuing, "Your vows were fucking joke, your marriage is a sham - your little friend, he wanted to save you because he wanted you all for his own and you... _ohh_ , you wanted that too, didn't ya, kitten?"

She said nothing; no matter how much she wanted to deny him and his assumptions, no matter how offensive and infuriating his words were, it was as though she were in a trance and had been rendered utterly powerless. Everything he did, every word he spoke, they went straight through her, filling her with a pleasant, familiar tension that set her core on fire.

"Am I getting warm?" He sneered, his hand hovering just before her most intimate area.

He waited only a moment for her to respond before pressing against the thin fabric that separated him from her sex, finding the material wet to the touch. The boy barely stifled a groan at his find, a triumphant look crossing his handsome features.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'","He murmured, releasing her wrists as he brought his hand to his belt to undo the buckle while the other moved to grip at the girls panties.

Amelia inhaled sharply, feeling the fabric begin to drag slowly down her hips – the sensation, for whatever reason, seemed to wake her up as her pulse quickened and she balled up her hands. Throwing her fist into Jerome's jaw as hard as she could, she managed to knock him back just enough to get out from beneath him and jump to her feet. The boy looked up at her in surprise, a tiny amount of blood spilling from his lip before a powerful laugh erupted from his chest.

"There she is!" He exclaimed, wiping at the wound.

Wasting no time, Amelia got the fuck out of there and darted to her room, locking the door behind her and doing what she could to ignore the cackling psycho on the other side of the wall.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! So yeah, things got a little bit intense. I feel like Jerome definitely crossed a line here (Surprise, Surprise) in his quest to pick apart Amelia, and I'm kind of excited to play around with that. She wasn't really too comfortable in his presence before, but his actions here will definitely drive a bit more of a wedge in there, though I'm sure that at this point he believes he's made progress – and maybe he has, a little, because he's confirmed some things that he had kind of assumed about her and her relationships but there's a lot more there that he'll have to work harder for should he find that he does actually want to know more. I know some of you might not appreciate the intimacy (for lack of a better term) in this chapter, and I apologize if that's the case or if it made you uncomfortable in any way, but I felt like Amelia's sexuality and her relationships would be something that would not only be fairly easy for Jerome to exploit and fuck with, but it would be something that he absolutely would do given the opportunity because well...he's kind of evil. Anyway, I'm back home finally and as such, I've gone back to work and all that jazz, so I'm sorry this took a bit to get posted. I apologize for any errors that I may have missed and as always thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the update and Please leave some Feedback, it's always greatly appreciated!**


	12. Part 1 Chapter 12

Amelia's heart pounded wildly against her rib cage, the heavy beat coursing through every inch of her body as she wrapped the covers around herself just as tightly as she could manage. In spite of her best efforts, it seemed that she was fighting in vain to steady her breathing – her breaths coming in short, shaky bursts as she had to consciously keep reminding herself to take in oxygen. Every creak and groan that the building around her would make seemed set the girl on edge, causing a terrifying jolt of dreadful energy to rip through her small form. She was absolutely petrified and humiliated and wanted nothing more than for this whole thing to be over with. How could she possibly set foot outside of her room again, knowing that he may be lurking there? What if Abbie were to find out – what would she do to him, or more importantly, to **her**? What if that fucking psychopath decided to become hostile towards her now that she had struck him? It didn't seem as though it had fazed him much at the time, in fact he had almost looked proud, but that provided her with no sense of comfort. It could have been that, in the heat of the moment, the boy was thrown off guard and merely didn't know how to respond; Amelia shook her head, it would be a fools errand to even attempt to make a guess at what was going through Jerome's head and why. Maybe he was simply looking to get fucked or maybe he was trying to prove a point or push her buttons – either way, she thought, she _needed_ to keep her distance.

It felt as though she had only just closed her eyes for a minute before she peeled them open again to find that the sun had risen; she must have passed out, she reasoned, as there was no way that that much time had passed without her realizing. Curling into herself, she groaned, feeling how heavy her body was from the lack of restful sleep – she contemplated going downstairs, if for no other reason than to free herself from the stale air in the bedroom, but was hesitant to venture out for the risk of running into him. She certainly couldn't stay in there forever though and the only other way out was through the window, which led directly to a roughly fifty story plummet.

Amelia stood and shuffled her feet quietly across the floor before slowly turning the knob and pulling the door open; peaking her head out, she made sure that the coast was clear. Hastily, she tip-toed her way down the hall and stairs before anyone could pop out at her. To her delight, she found that the living room was completely empty and as such she promptly decided to take a spot on the couch, curling up beneath a tan throw blanket that had been draped over the back as she fumbled with the T.V. Remote. Before long, the television clicked on, displaying the local news. Of course they would keep it on the news, Amelia figured, a group like that probably reveled in seeing themselves on the air. And they _were_ on the air, actually – a blonde woman was speaking into the camera in regards to the 'heinous attack' on the Gotham City Police Department earlier that week. They had kept the details brief and offered no footage, which the girl was thankful for – she was not keen on the idea of reliving that nightmare – but then, the story shifted, grabbing her attention immediately.

"At this time, police are asking that residents be on the lookout for this woman," The reporter explained before a picture of Amelia appeared on the screen, "Twenty-five year old Amelia Mara went missing during the attack on the Gotham City Police Department after having been brought in for questioning. Miss Mara is the estranged spouse of Abigail Mara, who is among the group of escaped Arkham Inmates. Abigail Mara was convicted of Second-Degree Murder in the death of twenty-three year old Troy Renner just over a year ago and was subsequently ordered to serve out her fifty year sentence at Arkham Asylum. Amelia is described as being five feet tall, one hundred and ten pounds, with long, red hair and blue eyes. Police do not suspect that she had any involvement in the breakout but urge residents to use extreme caution and to, under no circumstances, attempt to approach the woman themselves. The police would like to remind everyone that Miss Mara is believed to be in grave danger and that the best and safest course of action, should she be sighted, is to call 911 immediately with the location."

"Well, what do ya know, doll – you're famous!"

The air caught in her throat as the sound of his voice reached her ears – she had been so engrossed with what was happening on the television screen that she had not heard him come down. She resolved not to acknowledge him, ignoring the feeling of the hairs at the back of her neck standing on end as he passed behind her on his way towards the kitchen. Scooping the thin, black remote up in her hand, Amelia flipped through the stations – acutely aware of Jerome's eyes on her all the while.

"So, how'd ya sleep?" She heard him ask, though there was no kindness to his voice.

She knew that he knew the answer, he just wanted to hear it from her.

Continuing to scroll through the channels, she made an honest effort to stay focused on literally anything but the man in the other room. A line had been crossed - she wasn't his to fuck with and he needed to know that.

"Oooh, so we're doing this, are we?" He started again after he realized she wasn't going to answer him, "The ol' cold shoulder, eh? Well, sweetheart, I gotta tell ya...not the best way to win friends and influence people."

"Fuckin' can it, Jerome," Abbie's voice clipped, seemingly from out of nowhere.

Amelia's head snapped in the direction of the woman's voice, watching as the brunette scuffled into view with a laundry basket full of bunched up clothes at her hip. She could feel her body tense, the color draining from her face as her spouse approached, stopping for a moment as she passed in front of her. Abbie scanned the girl on the couch with a puzzled look upon her face.

"You okay?" She asked.

Amelia bobbed her head softly.

"Alright," Abbie replied with a shrug, deciding that it was probably best not to press the issue, especially after their argument the other day.

Without another word, the olive-skinned woman trotted off and disappeared into the utility room, leaving the two redheads alone. The second that Abbie had vanished, Jerome skittered out from behind the kitchen counter and came to stand behind Amelia, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

"You wanna tell her or should I?"

"Fuck off," She replied through gritted teeth.

"Tsk, tsk – you know," He began, his hand darting out to roughly grip the girls jaw, turning her head to force her to look up at him, "Your manners could really use some work."

Amelia opened her mouth to respond, but decided against it as she noticed a figure entering the room from the corner of her eye. Shifting her gaze to get a better look, she watched as Galavan approached, straightening his maroon tie as he moved.

"Jerome, come now – don't scare the girl _too_ much, " Theo said, coming to a stop in the center of the room, "She is our _guest_ after all. Wouldn't wanna run her off."

The ginger instantly released his hold on her and stepped away before offering the older man a strange sort of bow as a way of saying 'hello'. Theo merely clapped a hand on the boys shoulder, giving him a small smile before turning his attention to the petite woman on the couch.

"Amelia," He began, her name sounding twisted and ugly as it fell from his lips, causing her to cringe, "So glad to see that you've finally decided to come out of hiding. I must admit, I was beginning to get a little concerned."

"Sorry," She muttered, not exactly sure of how she was supposed to respond.

"It's quite alright – I know this must be a... _difficult_ transition for you, but the important thing is that you're all better now, yes?"

The girl nodded, sensing that it was the only appropriate answer.

"Good. Because it's time now for you to start pulling your weight and well, contributing to our cause."

"Which is?" Amelia inquired.

"Pardon me?"

"Well, if you're gonna ask me to contribute to some cause I'd like to at least know what I'm contributing to," She elaborated.

A charming grin crossed Theo's face.

"Understandable. All will be revealed in due time, Miss Mara – I promise. But for right now, all that you need to worry about is just doing as you're instructed."

She said nothing, merely watching and waiting for him to continue.

"You see, tomorrow a sort of luncheon and ribbon cutting ceremony is being held down at Gotham City Central Park – they've opened a new pavilion and a playground and representatives for all of the businesses and families that came together to fund the project are going to be there, as well as some media outlets, no doubt. Naturally, this will provide a good opportunity to...have some _fun_ and make sure that no one forgets that the Maniax are still out there."

"You don't think shooting up the police station and killing the commissioner was sufficient enough?" She questioned, her eyebrows furrowed.

"It was a strong start," Theo admitted, "But in a city like Gotham, you have to be persistent or else you'll simply fade into the background."

"Okay...," Amelia acknowledged, "But where do I come in with all of this?"

Galavan shrugged his shoulders at her inquiry, his mouth forming a tight line.

"Well, we're a few men down and at any rate, I'm confident that you can figure out how to operate a handgun."

She sat, staring at him wordlessly as her mind worked to process what he had just said. He meant for her to attack people, to take innocent lives; she felt a heavy, sick feeling settle into the pit of her stomach.

"Unless, of course, you don't feel like you're up to task?" He asked, though the threat in his tone was clear as day.

Amelia shook her head and managed to force out a soft sound of agreement.

"Fantastic! Be sure to rest up tonight and if you have any questions, Jerome here will be leading the operation so he should be able to clue you in on whatever you might be curious about."

The pale woman nodded her head lightly in response before someone cleared their throat loudly, turning everybody's attention towards the lady who had propped herself against the doorframe of the utility room.

"Why didn't I know about this?" Abbie demanded, her frustration written plainly across her face.

"Why _would_ you? You're not going on this one, Abigail," Galavan explained.

"Well, I think I should -"

"But you're not," He stated adamantly, cutting her off, "The decision has been made. Amelia needs to get her feet wet and I feel like this would be a good opportunity for her to do that. Considering the strained nature of your relationship, I'm not confident that your head would be in the game well enough for you to be of any considerable assistance if you were to go and besides, should Miss Mara for any reason fail to meet expectations, I trust Jerome to do what is necessary and I don't need you trying to get in the way should it come to that."

At that last comment, Amelia turned her gaze upon the ginger, who proceeded to extend his pointer finger and thumb, mimicking a gun as he pointed directly at her head. Cocking his hand back as though he had fired at her, he made a little _pow_ sound with his mouth.

With a loud huff, Abbie stormed off, pushing past Theo as she made her way towards the stairs. The man brushed it off, however, and glanced at his watch before quickly excusing himself and making for the door. Amelia stared aimlessly into the distance for a few minutes, sitting in silence with Jerome who had gone back to preparing himself some toast before she turned her eyes to meet him. He held her gaze, though he did break it a few times as he fiddled around with the butter knife.

He almost looked uncomfortable for a second before he offered her only a single word.

"Surprise!"

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! So, in case there was ever any question, Galavan's definitely an asshole and is now forcing Amelia into some terrible shit. Not surprising, all things considered – Amelia certainly knew that this was a very real possibility after her first meeting with Theo, but the fact that she's essentially been ordered to murder people still, naturally, isn't something that's going to sit well with somebody who is, at least for the most part, mentally stable and doesn't derive satisfaction from hurting or killing people. It's going to be interesting to write the next few parts up, for sure. Anyway, thank you for reading and I apologize for any mistakes I might have missed – I hope you liked this update and as always, if you're feeling up to it, I'd love to hear from you!**


	13. Part 1 Chapter 13

Her eyes were glued to the young man across the room, everything else seeming to have fallen out of focus as her fear and anxiety evolved into something entirely different. All that she could see was **him** as her sight went red, and although her rational mind screamed for her to stop, her rage spoke even louder, driving the girl to her feet and forcing her to advance on Jerome with an unprecedented amount of purpose. He didn't seem to think much of it as she stepped around the counter, continuing to spread the butter over his toast before she violently shoved him, forcing him to face her. Before he could react, her small hand darted out and ripped the butter knife from his grasp, tossing it viciously against the counter top. He regarded the girl with a mixture of confusion and amusement written across his face, the wicked smile that he always wore slowly forming on his lips, fueling the girl's fire as she struck, landing a solid right hook against his cheek, causing the boy to recoil into the wall behind him.

" 'Suprise' – really? Fucking _'surprise'_? You've been messing with me, _tormenting_ me practically nonstop since the second I woke up in this shit-hole and now...what? You're gonna kill me? You're gonna put me down like a fucking _dog_ if I don't live up to your standards – _his_ standards? Is that why you were almost...I dunno, _nice_ for a second yesterday? Askin' how I was doing? Is that why you decided you were gonna try to get in my _fucking_ pants, you piece of shit? Because you knew that window was gonna close real soon? Or, I dunno, do you just find all this super fuckin' hilarious in that fucked up head of yours?!" Amelia seethed, her body shaking with fury.

"I'm sensing anger," He quipped, rubbing lightly at his face as he righted himself.

"You're goddamn right."

"Ah, well, here's the thing, cupcake – I mess with you because it's _easy_ and _fun_ and it gets so _boring_ around here sometimes...ya know? And if you think about it, whether or not I put a bullet through that pretty little head of yours tomorrow is completely up to you. It's not exactly like I'm rooting for it – you've got a nice face. It would be a hell of a waste, if ya ask me," He replied as he took steps towards her, coming to a stop only when he was sufficiently close to tower over her petite frame.

Emitting a sound of frustration, the girl lashed out again, propelling her fist into the man's chest, forcing him to take a couple of steps back. Though the blow clearly did not cause him much physical discomfort, his expression fell just the slightest amount, but only for a moment.

"Look, I get that you're upset, but I dunno what you want from me, doll. It's not like this was my decision," He offered, almost sounding remorseful. Almost.

She knew that he wasn't, but it got her thinking.

"I just...I guess I don't get it. How someone like you could bow so easily to a man like Galavan...it seems weird. I mean – I'm not gonna pretend like I know you, but I get the impression that you are not someone who likes to take orders, and yet here you are taking them from some smooth talking bean pole in a fucking suit."

Jerome's face fell, becoming expressionless and dark.

"Watch it, princess," He warned, "What Galavan and I have is a mutually beneficial arraignment – the man has a vision, but he doesn't like to get his hands dirty which is perfect because, well – I do. In the unfortunate, but likely, event that you should fail to meet expectations tomorrow, you're **gonna** **die**. No way 'round that. But rest assured that you're gonna die not just because Theo said so, but because _I_ was on board with that outcome, too. Capisci?"

Amelia studied his face, thinking over his words for a minute before she spoke.

"I don't know whether to laugh or to feel bad for you, honestly. You think that you're equal partners in this but you're not. You don't even know enough to be able to tell that you're being exploited."

Reaching out and picking the discarded knife up off of the counter top, her pressed it into her chest as he quickly imagined a few ways in which he could use it with lethal repercussion in spite of its dullness.

"You're makin' a whole lot of assumptions about things you know nothing about, sweetheart," He replied menacingly.

"Mm, doesn't feel so great, does it?" She countered.

That caused a smug grin to cross his features. She rolled her eyes.

"Don't pretend that you didn't like it."

"I'm not pretending," She insisted lowly.

"Well then, someone really ought to tell that to your downstairs."

Amelia flung her open hand forward in an effort to slap Jerome, but he caught her wrist and held it, preventing her assault.

"Oh, no, kitten. I've already given you a couple free shots - any more and I'm gonna have to start takin' ones of my own and I gotta tell ya, I don't think you'd like that very much."

She merely met his gaze, shooting daggers from her eyes as she tried in vain to free herself from his grasp.

"So," He continued, a satisfied look washing over him at how easily he had overpowered her, "You go do whatever it is that you need to do to prepare yourself – tomorrow is coming quicker than you think."

The girl grumbled some sort of unintelligible insult before turning and storming away, only to be stopped by his voice calling after her as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, uh – you might wanna consider investing in a scarf," He suggested impishly.

She shot him an annoyed and confused look as she tried to figure out what the hell he was getting at. He did not use his words to respond, opting instead to simply extend his long finger and tap at the side of his neck. She raised her hand to the same spot on her own body and felt her breath catch in her throat as she remembered the mark that he had left there.

"Go fuck yourself," She spat angrily.

She then turned and climbed the stairs, disappearing into her room.

* * *

The day wore on as Amelia sat on her bed, legs tucked beneath her as she gazed into nothingness. There was too much going through her head to concentrate – she simply could not hold on to one line of thought long enough to even attempt to make any sense of it, and she found that it was becoming increasingly worse as the room grew darker and darker. Lord only knew where she would be in less than 24 hours, or whether she would even still be walking the Earth – one thing was certain: the world would be down a few more humans, she just wasn't sure yet if she would be among them. A soft knock landed on her door, drawing her attention as Abbie popped her head just inside of the room.

"Can I come in for a minute?" She asked quietly.

Amelia nodded and the girl stepped in, closing the door behind her before she took a spot next to the redhead on the mattress.

"How're you doing?" She questioned, concern dripping from her tone.

The pale woman shrugged weakly.

"How do you think?"

"Yeah, I know," Abbie responded solemnly, "I'm sorry. I know that doesn't mean much but...I don't know. I should have just let you go, I should have known that you'd end up in shitty position like this...I just wanted you back in my life so bad, you know? That doesn't excuse anything, I know, but just...I am _so_ sorry. Really. I know this is my fault and I can't fix it but I need you to know that I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Amelia muttered, twiddling her thumbs, "It's not your fault. Not entirely. I did this to myself. I set a precedent for you and it just...it got _way_ out of hand. I made my bed, now I get to lay in it."

Abigail shook her head softly, placing her hand gently on her wife's back in an attempt to comfort her.

"What you did – no matter how you feel about it – it was the right thing to do. I know you don't see it that way, but it **was** and I will never be able to thank you enough for it."

"Don't fucking thank me," Amelia growled, "Regardless of whether or not it was deserved, it doesn't make it right, Abbie. There's justice and then there's revenge. The line is sometimes a bit difficult to find but it fucking exists and it exists for a reason."

The brunette withdrew her hand, a tight smile forming on her lips as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Well," She started, her voice barely above a whisper, "Sometimes, amid all of the chaos, you just do what you have to do."

Amelia made a small sound of acknowledgment, but offered no other response as her spouse made to exit the room; Abbie stopped just short, taking the opportunity to take in the view of Amelia one last time before saying the only words that she really cared to speak.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, just...make sure _you_ come back."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! So, yeah this is a bit of a filler chapter, I know and it is pretty short, but the next few updates are likely going to be fairly lengthy (at least for me, anyways) and shits going to get kinda real, so there's that to look forward to. I've had the bones for these next few chapters written for quite a while now so I'm happy I get to start fleshing them out. I honestly don't have terribly much to say this time around, so I hope that you liked this update (as short and fillery as it was), and I apologize for any mistakes I may have missed. As always, your _feedback_ is always greatly appreciated and if you would be so kind, I would love to hear from you!**


	14. Part 1 Chapter 14

Amelia watched with passive interest as the headlights from the swarm of vehicles below danced across the wet pavement – for a second she considered that they almost looked like little fireflies from where she sat, way high up in the sky. A small storm had blown through, drenching the city and leaving a cool, refreshing wind to waft through the open bedroom window, filling the room with the scent of rain as Amelia sat on the large window ledge. She listened to the far off sounds of the city – the dull roar, the occasional car horn, the rumbling of the train as it barreled down the tracks – there was something about the strange melody of the city that lulled her into an odd state of peace, helping her to drift away into her own little world for a spell. Lost deep within her own mind, she was completely oblivious to the fact that someone else had entered the bedroom.

Quietly pushing the door shut behind him, Jerome leaned so that his back rested against its hard surface, watching the girl silently from across the room. Shifting uncomfortably, he briefly considered turning around and leaving – to be honest, he was not quite sure why he had come in the first place, though he reasoned that it was because he was bored and, as per usual, he could not sleep; he had figured, with a certain degree of accuracy, that perhaps she was in the same boat, albeit for an entirely different reason. He merely stood there for a few minutes, watching her, before he decided to make his presence known.

"Not plannin' on jumpin', are ya, doll?"

Amelia's head turned instantly towards the sound of his voice, though to his surprise, he found that she did not look frightened. She didn't even look surprised to see him.

"No," She answered apathetically, "Not yet, anyway. Haven't exactly ruled anything out."

The boy nodded as though her response was reasonable, leisurely walking over to her before propping himself against the wall beside the window using his shoulder.

"Mm, well for what it's worth, I think my way might be marginally less torturous – certainly more dignified," He stated sincerely.

"Well, shit – I hadn't thought of it that way. You're such a fucking _gentleman_ – _thank you_ ," She replied sarcastically.

"I try," He jested, offering her a small bow.

Amelia chuckled lightly at his gesture, though her eyes remained sad and distant. She did not say, nor do anything else as a means to communicate with him, opting instead to turn her attention back to the city below. Jerome kept his eyes on her, watching her as she stared out into the world. What a damn shame it would be if he had to drop her – while their time together had been incredibly limited, she had provided him, willingly or not, with a fairly significant amount of entertainment and he strongly suspected that he had only just begun to scratch the surface with her.

"So, _Jerome_ ," She said, drawing his name out slowly; she cringed inwardly at how weird it felt to address the madman so casually.

"Hm?" He answered, picking absently at his nails as a smile took form on his lips – he enjoyed the way his voice sounded coming from her throat.

"Tell me about yourself."

The man shot her a curious look.

"What?" He inquired, although he knew perfectly well what she had requested, he could not for the life of him figure out what would possess her to ask.

"Tell me about yourself," She repeated softly, "I mean, I've told you a bit about me so it's only fair and besides, if you're gonna be the guy to put me out of my misery well…I mean I'd like to know at least a _little_ bit about you."

Jerome rolled his eyes – it never ceased to amaze him how quickly people could resign themselves to their fate, acting as though things were truly inevitable – and of course, sometimes they were, but the smallest part of him almost hoped, for his sake more than hers, that she would find a way to pull her shit together.

"Okay," He replied, taking a seat at the foot of the bed so that he sat directly across from the petite redhead, "What do you wanna know?"

She merely shrugged her shoulders.

"I dunno…what's your last name?" She asked, clearly not having really given much thought as to where she wanted to go with this conversation.

"Valeska," He said flatly.

"Where'd you grow up?"

"Nowhere in particular. We moved around a lot."

"Military?" Amelia guessed.

"Circus," He corrected.

"Oh," She replied, mildly thrown by the answer and not entirely sure how to respond.

"Yeah – mom was a snake dancer and dad was a psychic," He began to explain before pausing, considering his next words, "I lived with my mom my whole life, though – didn't know that the old man was my dad 'til after."

Amelia waited for him to go on, only speaking when she realized that he had disappeared somewhere inside of his own mind.

"After what?" She asked quietly, coaxing him back into reality.

"After I killed her," He clarified nonchalantly.

"Your mother?"

"Mhm."

She bobbed her head lightly as his words sunk in, finding her lack of disgust with his revelation somewhat disconcerting.

"What did she do?"

"Oh, you know, the usual stuff," He answered dismissively with a wave of his hand, "She was overbearing, critical, but mostly she just loved to beat the shit out of me, drink herself into oblivion, and fuck anything that would give her the time of day. Hell, sometimes she'd make a whole day of it, y'know? Well, okay – maybe it was more than just _sometimes_ , but hey, go big or go home, right?"

Amelia kept her eyes on him for a time, cautiously thinking of what she should say to him, if anything.

"I'm sorry," She wished she could say something more, but it was all that came to mind.

His body tensed as her voice reached his ears – her words had irked him, not because they were shallow or meaningless, but rather because he could tell that she really meant them. If she thought that trying to make him like her was going to save her life, she would find out that hard way how wrong she was.

"Don't be," He growled, "I took care of it, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you certainly did," She responded, "But you shouldn't have had to."

Weakly tossing his hands into the air, he offered the girl an exasperated expression.

"Yeah, well – that's life, sweetheart."

"Yeah," Amelia conceded gently, "You're right about that."

It fell silent between the two of them for quite a long while after that. Amelia stayed in her spot, continuing to watch as the people of Gotham scurried about, even at that ungodly hour – she only turned her attention away for a moment as she watched Jerome shift on the mattress, repositioning himself so that he was laying down. She couldn't be sure why she was okay with him being so near to her now – she reasoned that she should feel, if anything, even more strongly about keeping distance between herself and the little lunatic, but she found that she was surprisingly comfortable with his presence. It occurred to her that perhaps she was just too tired to care, or otherwise maybe she had just come to accept that what would be, would be and that if the ginger wanted her dead, that she would be dead. Regardless of the reason, Amelia knew for certain that she did not want to spend what could potentially be the last hours of her life feeling afraid or angry. The night wore on and she kept staring silently out into the world until the sun slowly began to creep upon the edge of the Earth.

"Jerome?" She called over to him in a hushed tone.

"Hm?" He grunted, having very nearly fallen asleep.

"How old are you?" The girl asked abruptly, her voice sounding far away.

The man blinked a few times, trying to shake the sleep from his eyes as he pushed himself up to get a better look at her.

"Uh – turned eighteen in March. Why?" He answered, his voice raspy.

Her shoulders slumped as a look of disbelief crossed her face.

"Jesus Christ – you're just a kid."

He merely shrugged in response.

Burying her face in her hands for a few minutes, she attempted gather herself before a funny thought popped into her head and she returned her attention to the pale figure in her bed.

"So, is this like," She started slowly, struggling to find the right words inside of her tired brain, "Your 'rebellious' phase or…?"

Jerome quirked an eyebrow at her for a second before taking notice of the small way in which the corners of her lips had risen. She was just hours away from her potential demise and she was making a fucking joke at his expense. He held her gaze as a tiny, but genuine laugh slipped past his lips, growing slightly deeper as the sound of her light giggle reached him.

As much as he hated to acknowledge it, it was a beautiful sound.

* * *

 _"_ _Rise and shine, princess!"_

Amelia heard Jerome's voice call out to her in a sing-song type of fashion, though she could not will herself to force her eyelids open. She grumbled angrily into the pillow – something about how it was far too early to have that obnoxious amount of energy – before she rolled over, rubbing her eyes and quickly coming to the realization that she was in her bed. She couldn't remember having moved from the window at all during the night and briefly wondered at how the hell she had managed to end up there, but dismissed the line of thought as she felt the ginger gently prodding at her arm with his fingers in order to wake her up.

"Come on – we've got work to do," He urged, gesturing to the woman to get out of bed before moving to straighten the bizarre top that he had changed into.

She examined the garment for a moment, wondering where in the world he would have acquired something like that before she came to the realization that it was just an altered straightjacket.

"Jesus Christ," She mumbled as she pulled herself to her feet, raking a hand through her hair in an attempt to tame it.

Moving about in a daze, Amelia eventually managed to pull herself together, at least somewhat, before Jerome found her – popping out of virtually nowhere and greeting her with a wild, excited smile fixed upon his face.

"Ready?" He asked giddily.

She stared at him blankly for a second before bobbing her head.

"Yeah. Ready."

* * *

 **A/N: Aww, nice(ish) Jerome! Don't get me wrong though – he ain't catching feelings yet, but he's coming to the conclusion that he kind of enjoys having her around, if for no other reason than that she's a good source of entertainment for him and she's not bad to look at. I'm sorry if he seems a little out of character – he's not really aiming to torment her here, he doesn't have an angle or anything and as crazy as that boy is, I am a firm believer that everyone has their 'quiet' side, which is kind of what we're seeing here. I really just loved the idea of Amelia asking Jerome about himself because, well, she doesn't know anything about him really and so their 'relationship' (for lack of a better word) has been a little one sided in that aspect, but I really liked that she did it almost out of a kind of morbid curiosity for wanting to know a little about the man that she assumes is going to take her life. Like that by knowing more about him and his life, by extension she will know a little more about her own and how/why it ended the way it did, should it come to that (if that makes sense). Anyway, thank you for reading (if you are still reading, lord only knows (=p) – Bless you if you are, though) and I apologize for any errors I might have missed. As always,** ** _Feedback/Reviews_** **would be immensely appreciated, and thank you a thousand times to those of you who have been kind enough to leave me some words.**


	15. Part 1 Chapter 15

**Chapter Warning: Violence, Swearing, Death**

A tense silence hung in the air as the small group drove towards their destination; Amelia found herself sandwiched uncomfortably inbetween a heavy-set man that she had never seen before and Jerome, while a second man that she had never met steered the vehicle. They had managed to pack themselves inside of an old truck, its age having been made evident not only by its make but also from the noticeable way in which the inside of the vehicle had deteriorated – the vinyl seats were all but falling apart and the air held a permanent staleness. The truck was laden with the smell of blood and gasoline, which did nothing to calm the girls nerves as she folded her arms tightly across her chest, keeping her eyes down while she did all that she could to fight the sick, anxious feeling that roiled in the pit of her stomach. She stirred only slightly when she felt an arm drape gently across her shoulders, pulling her closer into the side of the redhead next her.

"Why the long face?" Jerome asked quietly, leaning in to speak directly into her ear.

She cringed as she felt his usual, menacing grin forming on his lips. She shot him an annoyed look in reply; he knew what was wrong – of course he did – he just wanted to push her buttons. It was like he just couldn't help himself when it came to that.

"Aw, c'mon," He urged, "Lighten up. It's not so bad. Let go and maybe you'll enjoy yourself."

The girl opened her mouth but did not get the opportunity to respond, as the truck veered off of the road just as the words reached her ears. Making the mistake of looking up through the windshield, she found that they were tearing across a grassy area and heading directly towards a considerable gathering of people. She should have known better, but she almost expected the driver to slow down or stop as they advanced on the group, whom had since taken notice of them and began to scatter in panic – she was wrong, of course, and a horrified screech tore from her lungs as she watched an older woman and a man, whom she presumed was the woman's husband, disappear beneath the truck. She felt the distinct bump that they caused as the tires rolled over them mercilessly, crushing their bodies beneath its insurmountable weight. Jerome roared with laughter before the vehicle came to a jarring halt and he turned his attention to Amelia, whose eyes were still fixed upon the glass before her.

"Alright, princess – it's do or die. Make me proud," He beamed, producing a hand gun from his side and shoving it roughly into her lap before addressing the men, "One of you boys keep an eye on this one for me, will ya? Make sure she doesn't try anythin' funny."

The larger of the two men grumbled in agreement before Jerome bolted out into the madness, followed shortly by the driver. Amelia sat, virtually frozen in place, gripping at the weapon in her lap before a violent shove propelled her from the vehicle. Landing face-first in the grass, the girl quickly retrieved the gun that had been flung from her grasp before scrambling to her feet and watching as the henchman climbed out of the vehicle, his gaze locked upon her with disdain. He looked as though he were about to open his mouth to say something to her when a figure ran up from the side and rammed into him, forcing him to the ground. Amelia did not waste the opportunity to put some distance between herself and the man, opting to move towards the pavilion just ahead of where they had parked. She found it extremely difficult to think in the middle of all of the chaos, much less participate in it, and so she staggered beneath the awning, looking out into the gruesome scene before her and listening to the people and their screams. So lost, was she, that she took no notice of the woman bounding towards her, knocking her completely off-guard as she was tackled to the floor. She hardly struggled beneath the woman's weight, merely raising her hands in a half-hearted attempt shield herself when she noticed that the figure above her had produced a large pair of metal scissors. The woman pulled her arm back, making her intentions quite clear - however, just as she went to plunge the sharp object into the pale girl's chest, a shot rang out. Amelia flinched and before she knew it, the female on top of her had slumped forward, blood seeping from the side of her head where a bullet had burrowed itself. Roughly shoving the body off of her, she cast her eyes in the direction from which the shot had come, finding Jerome standing there, shaking his head lightly.

"Strike one, sweetheart!" He called out before returning to his previous task.

Grabbing the gun and climbing to her feet once more, Amelia stumbled backwards until she felt her body come into contact with a solid surface. Turning, she saw that she had run into the door of the pavilions kitchen and she hastily decided to slip inside, the tiniest feeling of relief washing over her upon finding it empty. Cautiously making her way to the far side of the room, Amelia ultimately came to rest her back against the refrigerator, closing her eyes as she worked to gather herself. She knew that she needed to pull it together – at the rate that she was going, Jerome was definitely going to kill her. She should have taken the opportunity and slain the woman who had made an attempt on her – at least then, she reasoned, she could have told herself that it was self-defense. She was unable to dwell too long on this thought, however, as the sound of the door opening drew her back, her heart seizing inside of her chest as her eyes flew open to see who had found her.

A familiar figure stalked towards her in the dimly lit room, running a single hand through his disheveled hair before he raised his head to face her fully, his eyes glistening and dangerous.

"Murphey?" Amelia squeaked.

"Yeah," The man breathed derisively, "Good to see ya, Mara; works been hell - where the _fuck_ you been?"

The girl swallowed hard and remained quiet, sensing that he wasn't truly looking for an answer.

"I've got kids. Did ya know that, Mara?" He asked abruptly after a moment, an edge to his voice.

"N-no. I didn't know that."

"Ah, well...I do. Two little girls," Murphey explained, "They're beautiful. They're my _world_. Was gonna bring 'em today but they woke up this mornin' not feelin' so good, ya know? Guess that was pretty lucky."

Not knowing how to respond to his words, she again opted not to reply. She simply watched him, feeling her body grow rigid as he approached her.

"So, you wanna tell me what the fuck you're doin' in here and why you got a gun?"

Amelia opened her mouth to speak, struggling to find her words before he cut her off.

"And don't you try fuckin' lyin' to me - 'cause I know, alright? I fuckin' _know_. I just wanna hear you say it, ya sick fuck."

"Excuse me?" She said, her voice barely audible.

"Don't you fucking play dumb with me, Mara. You think anyone really believes that it was a coincidence that you went M.I.A the same day that your wife and her little buddies broke out of Arkham? I was there that night, remember? You were actin' fuckin' weird and then you split on your shift like two hours early. 'Cause you knew, didn't ya? You knew it was gonna happen – hell, ya probably helped 'em."

"No. It's not...it's not like that."

"Oh, it's not? 'Cause you know it's just kinda weird - you go missin' right as they escape and now here _they_ are and here _you_ are -"

"Murphey, trust me it's -"

The man slammed his large fist into the petite woman's jaw, busting her lip and bringing her to her knees.

"Fuck you, Mara – save your bullshit excuses, 'cause ain't nobody here care to hear 'em. You know you and your friends dropped my little brother off of a fuckin' _building_? A goddamn building! And for what? To make a fucking _statement_?" He seethed as he cracked his fist across her cheek, smiling as she tumbled to the floor. She struggled to pick herself back up before he kicked her in the stomach so hard that she nearly vomited.

Weakly, she turned herself over so that she was on her back, looking up at the menacing figure that was towering over her. Somehow, in spite of the hard blows that he had landed on her, she had managed to keep her hold on the weapon that Jerome had given her. A familiar darkness flickered in Murphey's eyes as he took notice of the gun in her hands and without warning, he quickly leaned down, making a grab for it before Amelia, almost instinctively, flipped the safety off and pressed the barrel against his forehead. She pulled the trigger without even thinking, flinching at the earsplitting noise that it made as something wet hit the far wall.

Hastily, she rolled her body and pulled herself to her feet so as to avoid being crushed beneath his corpse. No matter how badly she wanted to look away, she found that she couldn't – she felt as though she were almost obligated to watch as his blood coated the floor.

"Oooh, right between the eyes – not bad!" A boyish voice cackled.

She didn't bother to look. It was, after all, obvious who it was, though something about his presence seemed to make everything suddenly feel very, very real and she could not help but to scream - horrified by what she had done. In an instant, the ginger maniac was behind her, clasping his cold hand over her mouth in an attempt to silence her.

"Shhhh, kitten" He whispered, "Don't ruin the moment."

* * *

 **A/N: Wow, was this hard to write. I apologize if it's not great – really, I do, but I hit a wall with this one really freaking hard, I'm not gonna lie. I've had the outline written for it for what feels like forever, but when it came to fleshing it out, I feel like my brain kind of turned into mush, so again I'm sorry if it's less than stellar. Amelia, naturally, was all kinds of lost and pretty useless in this whole situation – she was way out of her element and scared and confused, but unfortunately (or fortunately, I guess) she did do what they had wanted her to do. She took a life. More than that though, it was somebody that she knew, so that's going to be a hell of thing for her to process. Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this update and I'm sorry for any errors I may have missed and all of that. As always, _I would love to hear from you guys_ – your words mean more than you know, there really is no greater motivator and hey, they may get this stupid word funk I seem to be in to GTFO. :)**


	16. Part 1 Chapter 16

**Chapter Warning: Violence/Death, Swearing, Emotional/Psychological Turmoil**

* * *

"I dunno, boss...kinda sounds like it was self-defense. Does that even count?"

"Hell no, it doesn't count! It doesn't, right? I mean it's obvious she was just tryin' to take cover and this guy came in and tried to fuck her up and she did what she had to. That ain't participation, that's just some bitch protectin' her own hide. Ya gotta put a bullet in her, Jerome."

Amelia listened to the men bickering over her fate just a couple of feet in front of the vehicle where she waited; they had pulled off and parked in an old factory lot that sat abandoned alongside of the river – she thought to herself that they had likely chose to stop at this particular location for a reason...it would be so easy to bury a bullet in her head and let her body fall into the dark, polluted waters. She swiftly wiped the back of her hand across her dirty, tear stained face as she blinked her eyes in hopes of soothing the burning sensation that lingered within them. She was getting to be dehydrated and she couldn't weep anymore even if she wanted to, though the terrible pain that she felt had begun to fade, enveloping the woman in strange, fragile kind of numbness.

"Aw, c'mon now, boys," Jerome started, waving a hand towards them dismissively, "Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Our girl may not have done that great but regardless of whatever position she found herself in, that guy _sure_ _is_ _**dead**_ _–_ in my book, I'd say that at least earns her a second chance."

A dry sob forced it's way from the girl's throat – the numbness that she had felt vanished in an instant as the clawing, wretched hurt returned in full force. Hearing Jerome speak so brusquely about what had happened...it bothered her almost more than the act itself had. Cocking his head towards the truck, the redhead regarded her with an unamused look before trotting over to the open passenger side door.

"You're not helping," He grumbled before swinging it shut and returning to the men to continue their conversation.

"Look, kid," The larger of the two men growled, "I know Galavan's put a lot of stock in you, so I've been tryin' to give ya the benefit of the doubt, but it's startin' to feel like you're just tryin' to protect carrot-top in there. She's cute – I'll give ya that – and I know it's always harder to do it when they're cute, but you don't strike me as the merciful type so...what gives? Is there somethin' we oughta know?"

"Yeah," The other man chirped in agreement.

Jerome laughed.

"What? No. I barely know her, but she's got potential. I can _feel_ it. And as useless as she mighta been back there, she still did better than I thought she would and uh, I'm not gonna punish her for that."

"Just 'cause she did better than _you_ thought she would don't mean shit and it sure as hell don't mean she met Galavan's standards. Both of us know she didn't and you fuckin' know it too, boy. Now you can either take care of it, or we will."

Jerome's shoulders slumped a little, his face falling while his lips formed a tight line as he seemed to mull over something in his head before his expression abruptly turned cheerful.

"Okay. Ya got me. You win, fellas."

"So, you'll take care of it, then?" One of the men questioned cautiously.

"You bet," The ginger grinned, quickly pulling his gun from his side and aiming it directly towards the larger, more aggressive henchman before pulling the trigger.

The psychopath giggled as the bit of metal burst through the man's temple, his heavy body falling to the pavement with a loud thud. Turning the weapon towards the remaining man, who had raised his hands in surrender, Jerome again pulled the trigger, shooting him dead. Clicking the safety back on, the redhead stuffed the gun into the waistband of his jeans before climbing into the drivers seat of the truck, giving Amelia a once-over as he started the engine. She had stopped crying, her eyes vacant and fixed upon the two bodies on the ground in front of them.

"Was them or you, toots. I picked you. Should take it as a compliment."

Though her voice was soft and dull, he was still able to make out her words over the sound of the rumbling vehicle.

"Thank you."

* * *

Amelia wasn't exactly sure how they had gotten back to the penthouse – she had zoned out in the car, everything around her having become hazy. She remembered hearing Jerome's voice speaking to her, though she could not make out his words. Before she knew it, he was pushing her through the front door, slamming it loudly behind them before stepping around to face her, placing a hand on either of her shoulders. He looked her dead in the eyes, his expression serious.

"Whatever you do, princess, you do **not** tell them that what you did was in self-defense," He warned lowly.

"But it was," She replied weakly.

Lifting his hand, he quickly slapped the girl across her face.

"No, it wasn't," He insisted, "You're a cold-blooded killer now, ya got it?"

Hesitantly, she nodded in agreement.

"Good girl."

At that moment, Tabitha, Barbara, and Abbie emerged from the living room, eager to see how the days events had gone and whether they were down one more person or not; Jerome stepped out of their way, locking eyes with the brunette who was visibly fuming after having caught a glimpse of Jerome's hands upon her wife. He winked at her, a smug grin plastered across his face.

"Well, well, well...I gotta say – I didn't think you had it in you," Tabitha offered, crossing her arms in front of her as her eyes raked over the pale girl.

Amelia was completely still, looking forward and completely failing to acknowledge the group that had gathered around her. She did not flinch nor make any sound as Abbie rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her small frame, peppering kisses across her face.

"I'm so proud of you," Abbie whispered, pressing her mouth against the redhead's ear.

Again, the girl did nothing to acknowledge the others. Noticing this, Barbara stepped forward, snapping her long fingers in front of Amelia's face in an attempt to spur some kind of response.

"Hey, red! You in there?" She barked.

Nothing.

The blond moved back, shrugging her shoulders in defeat.

"Guess not."

Abbie pulled back slightly, looking into her wife's empty eyes as she raised her hands to cradle the woman's face.

"Are you okay, baby?"

No reply.

"Baby, please answer me."

Silence.

"Please. Please say something."

…

"Amelia!"

Abbie stiffened as she felt a large hand come down upon her shoulder, pulling her away from her spouse. She whirled around and looked up at Jerome, ready to smack that stupid grin right off of his fucking face, but was surprised to find that he wasn't smiling anymore.

"Girl's had a hell of a day, maybe we should give her some space, yeah?" He suggested.

The olive-skinned woman growled and shoved at his chest.

"Fuck you," She spat, "She's _my_ wife. I know her better than anybody. Don't think that because you went on one little fucked up adventure with her that you know what's good for her – you don't!"

The boy rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Jesus Christ – awful touchy, aren't we?"

Turning his eyes upon Amelia, he scanned her body and took note of the patches of dirt and blood that were smeared across her skin and clothing.

"Look – why don't ya take the missus upstairs and draw her a hot bath or somethin'?" He proposed, figuring that the girl might come around a little easier if she were able to wash away the layer of grime that had accumulated on her skin as a result of the days activities.

Sighing in frustration, Abbie shot a look at Jerome before reaching out and taking Amelia by the hand.

"Fine," She clipped, before dragging the girl away and disappearing with her up the stairs.

Coming to stand just outside of the bathroom door, Abbie watched as Amelia shuffled her feet and slowly entered the room, turning to face her as the brunette cleared her throat softly.

"You want me to come in? I'll keep you company, if you'd like."

Amelia merely blinked at her a couple of times before closing the door in her face and locking it. She didn't know how to feel, she didn't know what to think, but she still knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she did not want to give Abbie any kind of opening to try to worm her way back into her good graces. Shedding the soiled clothing from her body, the pale woman stopped and stared at herself in the mirror for a while – she physically looked the same, sure, but she found that she could hardly recognize herself. Shaking her head gently, Amelia stepped over and turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to heat up and fill the tub up a little ways before allowing herself to slip into it.

* * *

It had been well over an hour and Abigail was beginning to worry – well, that's not entirely accurate – she had _begun_ to worry after about thirty minutes, but it was only after the hour and a half mark had come and gone that Jerome had started to become annoyed by her constant muttering and pacing. He had perched himself on the kitchen counter, quietly toying with a pocket knife, as the woman made a path back and forth through the living room.

"I'm goin' back up there – it's been way too long. Somethin' ain't right," Abbie declared after a few minutes, though she wasn't really addressing anybody in particular.

Jerome said nothing, continuing to fiddle with the object in his hands as he listened to her footsteps pound against the steps on her way up the stairs, only to come back down a few minutes later. He could tell by the aggravated sound that emanated from her chest that she hadn't had any more luck that time than she had had with her past several attempts.

"She's not answering the fucking door. What if she's drowned herself or somethin' in there?"

The boy scoffed, earning him yet another furious look from Abbie.

"You really think she'd do it?" He questioned, a malicious smile pulling at his lips.

The girl threw up her hands and offered only a small shrug in reply.

"Oh?" He started, furrowing his brow "'Cause I thought that I heard you say that you, uh, 'know her better than anybody' – ain't that right?"

"Yeah – I do."

"Seems like somethin' you oughta know, then."

"Shut the fuck up, Jerome," She hissed, "I'm just...I'm worried."

"Well, stop. You're giving me a headache."

"Oh, boo-hoo. Poor Jerome has a headache," Abbie mocked, "I'd gladly fucking trade places with you right now if I could."

Jerome shot her an skeptical look.

"Really, I would," She insisted, "A headache is fucking nothing compared to the pain of knowing that the person that you love is hurting and that there is nothing that you can do to help them."

The man let out a laugh as he rolled his eyes at her words.

"Oh, boy. That's a hell of a line. How long'd it take ya to come up with that gem?"

"Eat shit, Jerome. You ever have the misfortune of growing a fucking heart and figuring out how to love anybody other than yourself, then you'll see. It's fucking torture."

Jerome chuckled, twirling the blade inbetween his fingers a little before meeting Abbie's gaze.

"Yeah – think I'll pass on that."

* * *

The sun had all but disappeared beyond the horizon and Amelia had yet to emerge from the bathroom. Abbie stood just outside, hammering her fist against the door as tears dripped down her cheeks. She had been screaming so loudly for so long, pleading with Amelia to open the door, that her voice had gone hoarse. It was all Jerome could do to stay out of it and ignore the noise, but ultimately he hit his breaking point and he just couldn't fucking listen to it any longer. He stalked down the hallway angrily, coming up on the brunette and roughly grabbing her arm as she raised it up to attack the door once more. Yanking her away from the room, Abbie spit curses at him and attempted to hit him, but failed.

"What the fuck, Jerome?!" She screeched, finally ripping her arm free from his grasp.

"Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe – just _maybe_ – she's not coming out of there because you won't leave her the **fuck** alone?" He inquired through gritted teeth.

"I...I just want to help her," Abbie replied weakly, drawing into herself slightly.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that she doesn't want your fucking help," Jerome spat coldly.

Abbie's face contorted in a mixture of rage and hurt before she violently pushed past him and stormed off to her room, slamming the door closed behind her.

Waiting a few minutes to make sure that she wasn't just going to turn around and come back out, Jerome swiftly pulled a credit card from his pocket once he was confident that the coast was clear. Pushing the card inbetween the door and its frame, he wriggled the flat piece of plastic around a bit before he felt a small click. He smiled to himself as he gently pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. His eyes immediately found Amelia laying in the tub – still very much alive, though she was staring blankly into the wall ahead of her. Although he reasoned that she _had_ to have noticed him, she made absolutely no indication of this as he reached over and pulled a towel from the counter beside him, slowly stepping forward to get a better look at the girl. Her face was like stone, completely unreadable, no light to her eyes whatsoever. Though he almost thought better of it, he allowed his eyes trail downwards, taking in the sight of her bare form beneath the water. He swallowed hard and forced his eyes shut for a moment, lightly shaking his head as if it would clear the unclean thoughts from his mind before he stepped forward and took a seat on the edge of the bath. Reaching out, he turned her face so that she was forced to look at him.

"How ya doin', champ?" He asked.

She remained quiet and he nodded softly.

"Yeah, that's probably fair," He granted, "But you know you gotta come out of there sooner or later, right?"

Amelia blinked a couple of times and mumbled something incoherent. Jerome grinned a little – it wasn't much but it was better than nothing. Running his thumb over her cheek, he leaned in towards her just the smallest amount.

"I know that you're probably goin' through some shit up in that pretty little head of yours right now, doll...but it's 'bout time you get the fuck out of this tub, alright?"

The girl nodded hesitantly and watched him as he stood and took a few steps back. Shakily, she followed his lead and pushed herself to her feet, stepping out of the bath and moving towards the ginger maniac, who did his best to keep his eyes up as he unfurled the towel and motioned for her to come to him. She did as he instructed and allowed him to carefully wrap the towel around her dainty body – once he had finished, he stood in front of her for a moment, a strange look etched across his face. Reaching out, he awkwardly patted the girls back and gently ushered her towards the door.

"Alright...let's get you to your room."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm gonna say it – Jerome is kinda the MVP in this chapter. I worry that he might come across as being way too nice or like he cares too much in this chapter, but I don't know. I don't feel like that's quite the case, because I feel like a lot of the reason he cares so much about people not bothering her and her not telling anyone how little she really contributed is so that HE doesn't catch shit for it, and that he opted to keep her alive rather than the alternative because, not only did she technically do kind of what they wanted her to do, but because he's somewhat intrigued by her. Trying to figure her out and messing with her is fun for him. I don't imagine that he's the kind of person that deals with being bored terribly well and when there's nothing else to do around the penthouse, that would be one less option available to him for him to be able to entertain himself. And I'm not going to lie, I almost feel bad for Abbie here, because she does love Amelia so much and, regardless of whether or not Abbie deserves for Amelia to shut her out like she has, she still genuinely wants to help her. It does suck to see someone you care about break down, and it sucks even worse when you know you can't help them, but I feel like if she caught wind that Amelia was responding better to Jerome than she had to Abbie during this whole thing, that Abbie would just... I dunno, it wouldn't be great though. Anyways, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this update. I'm sorry for any errors I may have missed and as always, if you would please be so kind, I would love to hear from you – hand to God, sometimes your words give me life! :P**


	17. Part 1 Chapter 17

**_Chapter Warning: (Potential) Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Smut_**

* * *

 _"Fuck!"_

Jerome pulled his arm back, grimacing as grains from the fractured wall grated against the broken skin of his knuckles. He examined his mangled hand with a disturbing kind of amusement before flicking his eyes up to assess the damage that he had done - there was a definite, blood speckled indentation where his fist had made contact, a respectable chunk of wall having been displaced. The small, violent outburst had made him feel a little better, but the relief was fleeting as he found his mind being pulled back into the same, dreadful line of thought that had pushed him to that point in the first place.

Shaking his injured hand lightly, the boy ran the other one through his hair, allowing his fingernails to scrape harshly against his scalp as he felt a familiar sense of tension weighing down on him, along with a strange type of feeling that was new and vexing. Whatever it was, it made him feel as though he were going to be sick to his stomach and that his chest was full of rocks. He considered for a second that maybe what he was feeling was guilt, but he quickly decided that that was absurd as he had nothing to feel guilty about - at least, not in his opinion, anyway. He had done a lot more good that day than he had in a very long time, which was a large part of the reason that he was so irritated - he had done exactly what he had resolved **not** to do and coddled the girl. He had been gracious and helped her out when that one bitch had pinned her down and was aiming to skewer her, and he thought that it had been quite generous of him to count the man that she had shot as an actual kill seeing as it was most definitely done only to save herself. He could have stopped with the niceties there, but for whatever God-forsaken reason, he had felt compelled to press on, going as far as to slay two men in order to make sure that no one could rat on either of them and pulling her zombified ass from the bathtub and helping her to her bedroom. He had sat her down at the foot of her bed and left her there without saying a word - not only because he reasoned that he had well surpassed his quota for good deeds, but because he honestly hadn't the slightest clue as to how to help her. Sure, he had a small inclination as to what it was that she was going through - he, too, had gone a bit blank for a minute after he had finished hacking his mother to death, but it did not last long for him, having dissipated almost as soon as he had felt it; he had known his victim for his entire life, while this man was a virtual stranger to Amelia, as far as Jerome could tell, and so he was having an incredibly difficult time understanding why it seemed to be hitting her so hard. While it was obvious that she did not share the same lust for blood as he did, he knew without knowing that the woman was no saint, even before she put a bullet between the man's eyes.

If nothing else, the henchman from earlier had been right about one thing - Jerome was **not** a merciful man - having not often been on the receiving end of compassion for much of his life, he was not prone to acts of charity and yet the fact that the girl sat, very much alive, just on the opposite side of the wall behind him, spat directly in the face of that notion. After some thought, he managed to convince himself that his intentions were much more self-serving than they would appear to the uninformed observer, reasoning that his actions had been motivated primarily by the fact that he had unfinished business with the ginger girl - there were still things that he wanted to know, not to mention all of the things that he longed to do to her, and he figured that perhaps after he had satisfied himself in those aspects, everything would likely return to normal for him. A deep frown formed on his face as he came to realize that that would not help him now, however, as he was filled with a volatile energy.

Stepping around the bed, Jerome carelessly scooped the ink-black switchblade from its spot on his bedside table, quickly coming to the conclusion that some poor, unfortunate soul would have to pay the price for his self-inflicted turmoil. Stopping only to pull on the dark sweatshirt that Amelia had returned to him, he slipped the blade into his pocket before tugging the hood up over his head, taking note of the distinct sound of rain pounding against the building outside. Pulling the door open, he began to whistle as he briskly made his way to the end of the corridor and down the staircase, his hands buried deep within his pockets. Once he had reached the bottom, he began to move towards the front door, but was stopped in his tracks when he noticed something in his peripheral. Slowly turning himself to face the wall of glass that led to the balcony, Jerome squinted just slightly as though it would help him to see better into the dark, wet night. There was no mistaking it - there was a feminine figure on the opposite side of the glass, its back turned towards the inside of the penthouse as it stood atop of the stone railing of the balcony, looking down into the street below. A cruel smirk pulled at Jerome's lips as he wondered who it was that was standing out there, a small part of him hoping that it was Abbie - that dream was swiftly dashed, however, as a flash of lightning illuminated the sky and all Jerome could see was red hair.

His fingers coiled tightly around the switchblade within his pocket as he watched her. How dare she spit in the face of all that he had done for her? He contemplated leaving her there to do whatever it was that she was going to do - he had certainly done **more** than enough for her at this point - but he found that as he made to move for the front door, his body simply wouldn't let him. It felt like sirens were going off inside of his head, almost as if to say "Wrong Way!", and so the boy let out an angry groan and stalked over to the sliding door that led to the balcony, forcing it open with a bit more strength than necessary. All it took was a few quick strides before he stood behind her, giving her no warning as he wrapped his arm around her waist and threw her over his shoulder. He was almost thrown off guard as she pounded her fist against his back.

"Put me the fuck down!" She bellowed, her voice breaking just the smallest amount.

"Oh, I will, sweetheart. Don't you worry," He replied scornfully.

She continued to spit abuse at him, only quieting a small amount as they crossed the threshold into the penthouse. Carrying her up the stairs, he began to whistle again as she struggled in attempt to free herself before they came upon her room. Once inside, he immediately, and perhaps a bit harshly, dropped the girl to the floor.

Amelia glared up at Jerome, rage and fear coursing through her tiny, shivering body as she sat in her drenched pajamas, watching as he turned and pushed the door shut behind them, locking it. Returning his attention to her, she felt something inside of her flutter as he looked her over, though the expression upon his face told her that she was clearly in trouble – taking a step forward, he raised his cold gaze to meet hers.

"Get the fuck up," He ordered darkly.

Breathing a sigh of irritation when she did not respond, the boy reached down, taking her by the arm and violently hauling her to her feet.

"Ya know," He said, "We really gotta work on your listening."

His jaw was tense and his eyes were missing their usual, mischievous glint – Amelia swallowed hard, unsure of how this scenario would play out – maybe he would change his mind and kill her after all, not that that mattered to her too much, especially considering that only moments earlier she was seriously considering taking a dive off of the balcony.

Reaching into his pocket, Jerome swiftly produced the switchblade, flicking it open with ease as he took another step closer to her, pressing the tip of the blade against her chest. Despite the chaotic frenzy of despair that was tearing her soul asunder, she did not cower at this threat, opting only to look into his eyes and wait for him to do whatever it was that he was going to do.

"People these days – they're so... _ungrateful_."

The girl let out a halfhearted laugh.

"You really expect gratitude?"

"Well, yeah," He answered frankly, "I mean, if we're bein' honest here, you should probably be, ah, sleepin' with the fishes right about now, but you're **not**. And if I remember right – which, of course I do - I killed a couple of our guys to ensure that no one'll ever know how much of a _disappointment_ you were. So...you're welcome."

"Uh-uh, motherfucker – you're **not** pinning that on me. You killed those guys because they thought that you were weak and...probably just because you _wanted_ to, actually," Amelia began, ignoring when Jerome made a small sound of concession, "And if what I did – or _didn't_ do, rather – makes me a fucking disappointment, then I'm alright with that. Killing innocent, unarmed people is insane, it's evil, and it's not something to be fucking **proud** of."

"Hey now, they weren't _all_ unarmed – that bitch with the scissors almost had ya."

Giggling at his own words, the ginger applied a little more pressure to the blade, causing the sharp edge to just barely slice into her pale skin before he suddenly turned serious again.

"So, is that what this all about then? You just can't **stand** the fact that a bunch of people, who you can't possibly have known well enough to _know_ whether they had it comin' or not, got bumped off? Or is this just about the poor fucker that **you** killed?"

Amelia's jaw tensed as she fought against the tears that wanted to form – she was not going to fucking cry. She was so sick of it that the thought of the act alone filled her with a frighteningly intense anger.

"I knew him," She confessed quietly.

"Yeah?" Was all he said.

"Yeah, we worked together. He was...kind of awkward. I always hated the way that he said my name – I dunno why, it just made me cringe every time he would address me. He'd always drink the last bit of coffee in the break room and never start a new pot...,"

"Sounds like an asshole."

"Yeah, well...you're not wrong," Amelia admitted with a small laugh before her face fell and she paused for a moment, "He had kids."

"And?" Jerome questioned with a shrug, "So what? Plenty of people have kids – doesn't make 'em special."

"You killed his brother."

The redhead paused for a bit, giving the girl a curious look of amusement.

"Did I?"

"Yeah," She answered, clearing her throat, "Guess you dropped him off of a building or something."

"Oh, wow," He cackled, "Been a rough couple of weeks for that family, eh?"

The girl shot him an unamused look and, much to her surprise, he managed to stifle his laughter and quickly compose himself.

"Okay, okay...it is a little funny, though," He insisted, "And, I mean honestly...it was just _one_ guy."

She shook her head softly.

"That doesn't matter."

"Amelia. He would have killed you if you hadn't done exactly what you did."

"Better me than him though, right? I mean, it would have been. He wasn't a great guy but he had a family, a life, and I have...I have **nothing**."

"Oh, quit whining," Jerome scolded, "You've got your life and you've got a girl who's crazy about ya – that's more than a lot of people have."

"Yeah, okay – I've got my life but I really, really wish that I didn't. I mean...everything just feels so stale and awful _all_ of the time. It's like...I dunno, I'm slowly dying on the inside and now practically all that's left is just this tiny pocket of pain. Half of the time I don't really feel connected to anyone or anything, almost like the physical world around me is just some kind of smoke-in-mirrors bullshit and I don't know what to do. I just want to feel... **alive** , but it's always either pain or numbness, twenty-four, seven. I don't think that I could tell you the last time anything made me feel legitimately good and I just...I dunno."

It still bothered her slightly, how natural it felt to vent to Jerome, even though in this particular instance, she hadn't been entirely truthful. She could certainly remember the last time that something, someone had made her feel good, made her feel alive, but she could not bring herself to say it – not to him.

"Right...well, sweetheart, correct me if I'm wrong but, it really seems to me like all you've been doing is sitting around, doing all that garbage that everyone tells you that you ought to be doing with your life, while still stewing in your own little pool of shit instead of actually moving on from it. I mean, you're still wearing your wedding ring for Christ's sake! You gotta go out into the world and do things 'cause you're never gonna feel alive if you trap yourself in the past, or if you, I dunno...kill yourself. Idiot."

It occurred to her rather suddenly exactly how many things in life that she had yet to experience and she could not help but to feel the tiniest bit foolish - yet in spite of this knowledge, in spite of the fact that he was undoubtedly right, the painful longing to feel anything besides this deep and dismal emptiness remained. Allowing her eyes to flitter over the mans face, she considered his striking beauty regardless of the ugliness that she knew lurked beneath the surface. He really was something to behold - his skin was pale with just the perfect dusting of small freckles, his jawline was strong and masculine, and his smile was boyish yet it held a very predatory element...and she loved it. No matter how many times she had seen it and wanted to wipe it right off of his face, there had always been a small, quiet part of her that found it oddly alluring. He had these beautiful, snow white teeth behind those full lips and Amelia thought to herself how **wrong** it was for somebody so rotten to have been blessed with such fine features.

Without thinking, she moved forward, almost smirking a little as Jerome swiftly jerked his arm back so that she would not seriously injure herself on the blade that he had been holding against her. He looked down at the girl, his brow knitted in confusion as she closed the distance between them entirely, rising up on her feet before pressing her supple lips - still cold from having been in the rain for so long - against his. His skin was warm and surprisingly soft, though she had felt his body tense at the contact. He made no attempt to kiss her back, raising his hands up to take hold of each of her shoulders, though he did not make any move to push her away. Pulling back, she scanned his face, looking for any indication of what was going through the boy's head but found that his expression was astoundingly hard to read. He looked a little disoriented, yet there was a definite, devilish gleam in his eyes.

"Feels like I'm gettin' mixed messages here, doll," He quipped lowly, his hands still gripping her shoulders tightly.

Amelia shook her head softly; she wasn't sure what had possessed her to kiss him - certainly, she knew better than that, but she could not honestly say that she regretted her actions, either. In all of her adult life, she had never kissed anyone other than Abbie and she figured that perhaps she just wanted to know what it would be like.

"I know," She admitted quietly, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that...I mean, I don't know - I've never kissed a guy before so maybe I thought it might do something but…"

She trailed off, knowing that she did not have a good excuse for having made such an advance on him.

"And?" He inquired, quirking an eyebrow.

"And what?"

"Did it _do_ something?"

Casting her eyes down, the girl shook her head gently, though even in the darkness of her bedroom, Jerome could see the tinge of red spread across her cheeks. Reaching out, he placed his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head upward, forcing her to look at him as he grinned wickedly.

"You're a bad liar," He growled, leaning in so that his face was mere inches from hers as he stepped forward, pushing her back until her legs hit against the side of the bed.

Her heart hammered inside of her chest, a familiar warmth beginning to build in her core as he towered over her.

"Admit it," He ordered huskily, ghosting his mouth across the side of her face as he watched her through heavily-lidded eyes.

"Admit what?" She questioned, doing her best to keep her voice even as she felt the boy's hand smooth down her side, coming to rest at the curve of her hip.

"That you like boys."

Amelia scoffed, though she could feel her face burning as she subconsciously pressed her thighs together.

"That you **want** me to touch you," He hissed, allowing the hand that had remained on her shoulder to slowly drop, deliberately brushing it against the girl's breast before resting it at the other side of her hips, gripping at the damp fabric of her shirt.

Biting down on her lower lip, she contemplated resisting - the rational part of her brain was pleading with her to push him away...but he was right and she knew that he knew it. She reasoned that trying to hide it would be futile at this point.

"Yes," She admitted softly, her voice quiet and quivering.

"Hm? What was that? Couldn't hear ya," He smirked, slipping his hands beneath the hem of her shirt as he slowly started to drag it up her body.

"I want you to touch me."

"Mm - are you gonna be good this time?" He asked, flicking his tongue out to run over the small cut that she had put on his lip the last time he had tried to be overly familiar with her.

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"I Promise."

"Good," He clipped before claiming her mouth with his own.

The contrast between Amelia's kiss and Jerome's was quite stark - like comparing night to day - where hers had been sweet and tender, his was ferocious and filled with need. To be honest, she felt a little overwhelmed by his passion, flinching slightly as she felt his tongue brush against her bottom lip, asking for admittance, which she eagerly granted in spite of herself. The two quickly found an effortless rhythm, moving their lips in a deep, fervent display, before he pulled away just slightly. Jerome cleared his throat as he worked to calm all of the thoughts and feelings that were swarming inside of him, though he did not have to work at it for long as he felt her small hand lightly graze along his arousal through the fabric of his pants, instantly bringing him back and rescuing him from his own mind. Swallowing hard, he roughly pushed the girl onto the bed before climbing over top of her, his eyes dark. Ripping the shirt from her delicate body, his eyes devoured the image of the girl laying beneath him in nothing but a pair of panties before he hastily undid his pants, leaning in to trail kisses along the girl's jaw.

"Do that again," He instructed, pressing his mouth against her ear.

A small sound escaped her as she felt his hot breath dance across her skin, the sensation cutting through her in the best kind of way. This was new and frightening to her, but she could not deny how desperate she was for it.

"Go on, kitten," He urged, having sensed her reluctance, "Don't be shy."

Amelia gasped as Jerome bit down lightly on her earlobe before doing as she was told. Softly running her hand up and over his bulge, she slipped into his jeans and wrapped her fingers around the pulsating organ within. He let out a shaky breath as he felt her grip him, immediately beginning to move himself in her hand as he peppered wet kisses down her neck, allowing his hands to roam over her body. Hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, Jerome teasingly slid them down her legs before tossing them carelessly to the floor. She shifted a small amount beneath the lunatic as she began to pump him, just barely allowing her thumb to skim across his slick tip, and enjoying the sound of his breath catching as she moved when she felt him press against her sex with his hand.

A small whine escaped her lips as he slowly pushed one long finger inside of her, raising his head to watch her face. Muttering curses under his breath, Jerome withdrew his digit, only to reinsert it with just slightly more force than he had the first time - she was burning hot, impossibly tight, and he was incredibly impatient to take her. He smiled inwardly as her mouth opened a small amount, creating an 'o' shape as he fingered her.

"You like that, kitten?"

The girl merely moaned in response and Jerome promptly pulled his hand back, pushing himself up and taking a step away from the bed. She seemed a little disappointed for a minute, confusion written all over her face before the boy rid himself of his clothing and returned to her. He reveled in the way that she squirmed beneath him as he pressed his manhood against her soaked entrance, leaning down and capturing her lips with his as he began to push himself inside of her. She whimpered against him as her hand flew to his back, her fingernails digging into his flesh as he filled her completely. Breaking the kiss, Jerome simply rested his forehead against hers as he allowed her a second to adjust to him, having felt himself push past a kind of barrier within her. He hadn't known that she was a virgin, though he wasn't terribly surprised. After a minute, he began to move, making an incredible effort to control himself as he withdrew from her body, only to push back in over and over again, gradually picking up speed and power. Grabbing at Amelia's hips, he roughly began to pull her against him as he thrust into her, pushing his cock into her as hard and deep as he could manage, enjoying the little noises coming from the girl beneath him. His gaze was intense and menacing, jaw slack as he fucked her, spitting curses and soft moans every so often - for someone who talked so much, he was actually rather quiet in bed.

"Fuck," Amelia hissed as she felt herself come on undone.

Her body tensed and trembled, her wetness convulsing around Jerome as he continued to move mercilessly within her, though he too was close.

"Fuck, Princess, you feel so good," He murmured, running his hand down her torso as he watched himself rut into her, finding the small amount of virginal blood mixed in with their combined juices strangely erotic.

His breath soon became ragged, his thrusts more and more erratic until finally he buried himself as deeply as he could and dug his fingers into the skin of her hips harshly, cursing as he spilled himself inside of her body.

Amelia and Jerome simply laid beside one another for a while, neither one of them speaking - what was there really to say, anyway? Ultimately, the girl drifted off, leaving Jerome to sit on the bed, watching her chest rise and fall as she slept.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! So THAT happened. I think it was fairly clear that Jerome and Amelia, if nothing else, found each other to be physically attractive, and that they don't completely hate each others company and so I kind of felt like somewhere between all of the tension and turmoil and vulnerability going on that ultimately someone (lookin' at you, Amelia), would hit a kind of breaking point and just want to feel _something_ so badly that she would kind of give in to that small part of her that knows that she kind of likes this psychopath. It's definitely not a move I, or probably anyone else for a matter, would recommend, but it happens. It's going to be interesting to figure out how they're gonna proceed from here. This is pretty much my first time writing smutty stuff, so I apologize if it's not great but hey – I tried. As always, I do apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that I may have missed (which I suspect may be quite a few seeing as this update is like twice as long as my usual ones) and I hope that you enjoyed this update! If you did, I would absolutely love to hear from you – _Reviews/Feedback are always appreciated_! **


	18. Part 1 Chapter 18

The penthouse was silent, save for the quiet sniffles emanating from the cream-colored sofa which Abbie had laid claim to as Jerome shuffled his feet across the floor, having hardly enough energy to keep himself upright. He had thought that the trip to the park was going to be the most interesting and labor-intensive part of his day, and yet it had been everything that came _after_ that he had found to be the most draining, although he had to admit that he did not hate where things had ultimately ended up. The mere thought of what had transpired brought a smile to his face – a genuine one, though there was a certain amount of malice behind it as well; he took great pleasure in knowing that he had done a very bad thing, that he held in his hands information that would undoubtedly push the crying, mess of a woman on the couch over the edge into a deep, dark place that she would never be able to crawl her way back from. He had sullied the body of her pretty little wife, brazenly desecrating their marriage as she wept just a few rooms away, completely oblivious. A part of him hoped that maybe she had heard, that somehow she had managed to pull herself out of her own shit just long enough to catch wind of the sounds that he had coaxed from Amelia's throat as he fucked her, but he gathered from the nonviolent way in which she regarded him as he stepped into her line of sight that that was not the case.

Without speaking a word, the boy moved past her, making his way into the kitchen and pulling a ceramic mug from the cupboard. Placing it atop the counter, he reached for the tall, silver coffee pot which, much to his surprise, still had some of the dark, hot liquid left inside of it. Pouring the drink into his cup, Jerome flicked his green orbs up for a split-second, watching as Abbie rubbed at her bloodshot eyes – he found himself gritting his teeth as he looked upon her, though he could not really justify why he felt so strongly opposed to her. She had never been much of a bother to him during their time in Arkham and once they had been broken out he found that he actually favored her over a handful of the other inmates that had been brought along with them. No, it was clear to him that it was only _after_ Amelia had showed up that he had started to feel this rift forming between himself and the brunette – it was not much of a loss, of course, as they had never been what anyone would ever consider to be close, but he thought the phenomenon to be rather strange.

Propping himself against the counter, Jerome carefully sipped at his drink, grimacing as the scalding liquid washed over his tongue; he stared blankly across the room, looking out through the glass towards the spot where he had found Amelia the night before, absentmindedly smoothing his fingers across his lips before he felt someone pass behind him. Though he did not turn to look, he knew that it was Barbara when he heard her curse him under her breath, irritated to find that he had taken the last of the coffee for himself.

"Long night?" He quipped as he faced the skinny blond, taking immediate notice of the glaringly obvious hickeys that had been dotted across her long neck.

Letting out a short, humorless laugh, the woman's lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

"Yeah, you could say that...and you?"

"Ah, no more than usual," He answered casually, shifting his attention towards the mug in his hands.

"Mm, _right_ – well, it certainly sounded to me like Amelia was having a hell of a **rough** time last night...kinda weird that you didn't notice, what with being in the next room and all."

"Yeah, well, I was busy so -"

"Oh, really? What, exactly, were you _doing_ , Jerome?" She inquired coyly, quirking an eyebrow at the boy.

"None of your fuckin' business, _Barbie_ ," He growled, his expression turning serious in an instant.

"Oooh – did I hit a nerve, red? Didn't know things were that serious."

"They're not."

"Then what are you getting so worked up over?" She questioned, gesturing towards his hand which had coiled so tightly around the handle of the mug that his knuckles had begun to turn white.

Taking notice, he relaxed his hand a bit and forced a smile.

"I'm not," He replied simply, adding absolutely nothing to support his claim as he turned his eyes towards the couch, checking to see if Abbie had managed to pick up on the details of their conversation. She hadn't, though he did find that the girl had pushed herself upright into a seated position and was looking curiously in their direction.

"What're you guys whisperin' about?" She asked, her voice broken and weak.

"Don't worry about it," Jerome clipped harshly.

"Aw, c'mon – tell her," Barbara urged, a sinister grin pulling at her thin lips.

Shooting a threatening look her way, the redhead leaned in just slightly so that only he and the woman beside him could hear his words.

"Keep talkin', Babs and I'll rip your tongue right out of your _fuckin_ ' _skull_."

Sensing the sincerity in his words, the woman's expression fell and she glowered up at him.

"Fine. But she _will_ find out. They always do."

"Ohhh, I'm counting on that," He smirked, "But not today. Not like this."

The blond shook her head lightly, flicking her eyes between Jerome and Abbie before excusing herself and sauntering out of the room.

"Tell me what?" Abbie asked, shifting her body and pulling a throw pillow into her lap.

Rolling his eyes, Jerome stepped around the counter and approached the brunette, coming to a stop just a couple of feet in front of her.

"It's nothin', really. Your missus came out of the bathroom last night and looked like she didn't know where the hell she even was, so I got her to her room and left her there. That was it. Barbara's just feelin' bored and is tryin' to stir shit up," He lied, not entirely convinced by his own words but unsure of what else to say. He had to tell her something, right?

Abbie stared at him for a second, her face void of any emotion. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

"Why are you being so nice to her?"

The question almost threw him off for a moment, but he found that more than anything, it pissed him off. Because he knew that he was being far too kind to her, and that he had no concrete reason for doing so. It was bad enough having that thought nagging at him in the back of his head, but finding that the others were taking notice as well was too much. It made it real. And that was unacceptable.

"I dunno," He answered honestly, "Seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"You...you are _not_ a good person," She started, her voice shaking a bit, "Empathy and kindness are not exactly in your repertoire. So, whatever your angle is here...whatever you're playing at, leave her out of it, okay? If you've got a problem with me, you keep it between us."

Jerome scoffed, plunging his hands deep inside of his pockets before he nodded.

"Sounds reasonable."

"I mean it, Jerome. Stay away from her."

It was all he could do to stifle the laugh that wanted to burst forth from his chest. Part of him wanted to tell her that it was a little too late for that, but he resisted. There surely would be a time for him to throw the cruel truth in her face, but until then he would have to do his utmost to keep it tucked away. He was just _so_ looking forward to watching her break when it happened.

Leaning in a bit too close for the woman's liking, the boy offered her a smile before lowly responding her request.

"Oh, you have my word."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! Sorry that this is so, so short and that it took so long to get up. I've been having major writers block lately and I've been working way, waaaayyyy too much. I know this is kind of a filler chapter, but I felt like it was somewhat important to begin to see how Jerome is feeling at this point in time...which is kind of murky, to say the least. I don't feel like he really knows how he feels right now, but he knows for sure that he's not a fan of it, in some aspects anyway. He clearly is pleased with himself and what happened and the fact that he's got this live grenade that he could throw out there whenever he pleases, but for now he's keeping things fairly close to his chest and whether or not there is some kind of plan or reason behind that is not really clear. We see him get a bit defensive here, and he's a little out of sorts because I feel like, even with Jerome being Jerome, he is a little scrambled in his head right now. In a rather short period of time, he has met this person whom he finds fairly intriguing and things have, due in no small part to his own behavior, escalated very quickly and he has found himself on a couple of occasions feeling compelled to help this person, which he recognizes as being grossly uncharacteristic of him, and so he's feeling a bit disturbed by all of that. I think that Jerome is someone who knows who he is and thoroughly enjoys his own wretchedness, so when all of a sudden, there comes some girl that has, even only a few times, coaxed something akin to kindness from him, he is very, very uncomfortable with it. But yeah, I dunno – it'll be fun to explore all of that and how Amelia is doing and how things will play out between her, Jerome, and Abbie. Again, I apologize for the wait and for how short this update is – I hope that you enjoyed it, anyhow. I'm sorry for any errors I may have missed and as always, your feedback is greatly appreciated!**


	19. Part 1 Chapter 19

Abigail had always been able to get a fairly good read on people and do it in record time, no less - it was practically her fucking superpower and although she did not like to advertise it, she was quite proud of this ability. She had known from the second that she had first laid eyes upon Amelia that they were, in a way, kindred spirits, and she had known from the instant that Theo Galavan had opened his mouth that he wasn't being entirely truthful with them. This skill had proved useful to her countless times in the past while her and Amelia were first out on their own and struggling to make ends meet, as it made it exceptionally easy for her to pinpoint potential targets. She had never held an honest job a day in her life, but she had not allowed that to prevent her from putting a roof over their heads. So, as she stared into the haunting green eyes of her peer, searching for any indication of what was truly going on inside of his head, she found herself incredibly disappointed and disturbed – she could **not** read this man. Jerome, who was virtually an open book, and whom she had previously been able to at least _kind of_ get a feel for, was suddenly a mystery to her, which, as she thought about it, was rather telling in and of itself. He had seemed genuine with his responses, or at least as genuine as he could be considering simply who he was a person, but Abbie got the distinct sense that there was something that he, too, was not being entirely honest about. This was a man that Abbie knew to be, if anything, perhaps a bit _too_ direct – she was not sure whether it was a result of his youth or just the fact that he enjoyed making people uncomfortable, but she had never known him to be the type to hold anything back, though she reasoned that she really had not spent enough time with the boy to make that call for certain – he had only been in Arkham for a short while before they had been broken out and it was not as if they had spent any real amount of time together since then. What little she had been able to discern, based off of what she had witnessed while they had been incarcerated together, was that when it came to deception, it was all about half-truths and misdirection with Jerome, and she strongly suspected that she was now finding herself on the receiving end of that, though she could not fathom why that would be.

"I'm gonna hold you to that, you know," She asserted, "You keep your word and you leave her the fuck alone...or I'll kill ya."

"Ooh, is that so? And, uh, just how exactly are you plannin' on doin' that? Gonna – I dunno – put a bread knife through my neck when my back's turned or...what?"

Abbie felt her heart plummet into her stomach as he spoke, balling her hands into fists when he snickered at her obvious discomfort.

"Cause, ya see, I heard that that's kinda your move and I gotta say, even by my standards that's pretty fuckin' cheap -"

"How the _fuck_ do you know about that?" She seethed, her thin frame practically shaking.

"Well, ya know how Galavan's got files on all of us...maybe I went through yours," He suggested innocently before allowing his expression to shift into something more ominous, "But then again – maybe I didn't."

"Motherfucker, you'd better start talkin' straight or -"

"Or what?" He snarled.

"Terribly sorry to interrupt, you two, but I'm going to have to ask that you place a pause on this one," Theo's deep voice called to the pair as he strode past, hardly giving them a second glance, "Abigail, if you're done crying and ready to do some work, I've got a job that's perfect for you."

"What kinda job?" Jerome inquired, a perplexed look upon his face as he tried to figure out what kind of task, exactly, Abbie would be particularly useful for over the rest of them.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Jerome. It's just that this requires a bit more delicacy than what the rest of you are used to. Now c'mon, Abbie – let's talk."

Keeping her eyes fixed on the young man before her, Abbie pushed herself off of the couch and complied with the older man's request. She would have to make a note to find the boy later.

Jerome watched as the two walked off, disappearing into a separate area of the penthouse – he just stood there for a few minutes in quiet contemplation before he heard the buzzer of the dryer go off and decided to venture in that direction. He truly despised doing chores, feeling as though he had done more than enough of somebody else's busy work to last the remainder of his lifetime, but after he had finished with Amelia, he hadn't just stuck around and watched the girl sleep. Well - he had - but only for a moment before he felt a familiar, violent restlessness envelope him and he simply had to get up and do something about it. He had gone out - as he had intended to do before finding Amelia on the balcony - and he had certainly hurt some people, which had left his clothes a bit worse for wear; still feeling wide awake after having committed his reprehensible acts, he had taken it upon himself to wash up, having showered and gathered up some of the soiled clothing from around the place and tossing them into the machine to be cleaned.

Pulling open the door of the dryer, Jerome was immediately greeted with the sight of Amelia's twisted up jeans, her bunched up shirt lying just beneath them – he had opted to throw her bloodied outfit in the wash with his as he figured she might lose her shit again if she were forced to wear the evidence of her crime. It was not that he was trying to spare her the pain of remembering – she would never be able to forget, even if she wanted to – he was simply trying to save himself from having to witness anymore breakdowns from the woman. Gathering the garments in his hands, he slung them over his arm and trudged up the stairs, rapping his knuckles against the solid surface of her door before letting himself in.

Amelia sat on the mattress, knees pressed against her chest as she gripped at the sheet that she had wrapped around herself – Jerome was pleased to find that she did not seem to be in the middle of some sort of meltdown, though she was clearly not doing terrifically well, either. She just sat there, staring into space as she tried to reconcile with herself about what she had done – to her horror, she found that she felt much more guilt for having cheated on her wife than she did about killing Murphey. She reasoned that it was because Murphey hadn't been her choice – not really, anyway – whereas what had happened between her and Jerome had undoubtedly been her own doing. She had made the decision to kiss him and she had allowed him to take it further. It was her mistake, and she had to own it.

"What do you want, Jerome?" She asked without looking up, her voice soft and far away.

Taking a few steps forward, the boy dropped her clothing at the foot of her bed before taking a seat beside her.

"Just bringin' up some clothes for ya is all," He explained, running his eyes over her small body, "You're not about to have an episode or somethin', are ya? Cause I gotta tell ya, between you and your wife, I'm pretty close to my limit in regards to whining women."

Casting her large, blue orbs his way, Amelia shook her head lightly.

"No. I'm alright. Does she know?"

"Hm?"

"I'm assuming you've probably seen her today – did you tell her?" She clarified, watching his face intently.

"Nah – Babs knows though," He answered casually, scratching absently at the palm of his hand.

"So it's only matter of time, then."

"Mhm."

"Great," She muttered, "She's gonna fuckin' kill me."

"Well, it's always 'only a matter of time' regardless of the situation, doll. The fact that blondie knows means it might come sooner rather than later, but make no mistake that it was _always_ gonna come around to bite ya. The way I see it, this fights been a long time comin' – just needed a little **push** , ya know?" He replied, giggling slightly as the last words left his mouth.

Amelia searched his face, though she was not quite sure what she was looking for – his mind did not work like any that she had ever known, he would make absolutely no sense in one instant and would be spouting wisdom well beyond his years in the next; he would seem normal and almost kind for a moment, but then you would find him cackling and cracking jokes as he watched the life force drain from his victim's body. She contemplated, for a second, how terrible it must be to live inside of a mind like that – she had thought that hers was a dark, chaotic place, but there was no way that it could ever hold a candle to what she figured he must live with on a day-to-day basis.

"I don't wanna hurt Abbie," She said after a moment, "I don't wanna kill her. I just want to be rid of her and move on with my life."

"Mm, well – how exactly do you intend to get rid of her if you're not gonna kill her?"

"I dunno," The girl shrugged, "I've been working on saving up money since she got locked up – was gonna file for divorce and move away, I guess."

"Where would you go?" The boy questioned, eyebrows raised thoughtfully.

"Ann Arbor."

Jerome offered her a befuddled look.

"It's in Michigan, west of Detroit," She clarified, "My brother goes to school there."

"Huh – didn't know ya had a brother."

"You never asked."

"Mm, good point."

"Doesn't really matter though," Amelia started, running a hand through her hair, "Don't think he'd really wanna see me, anyways."

"Aw, why not?," Jerome inquired, an expression of faux-concern written across his face, "Did ya do a bad thing?"

The girl bobbed her head lightly, casting her eyes to the floor.

"Yeah, Jerome – I did a bad thing."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! So, I opted to begin this chapter with kind of a small look into what's going on inside of Abbie's head right now – in spite of her impulsiveness and her tendency to be somewhat childish, Abbie is actually quite intelligent in her own way, which is something that'll be expanded on a bit in chapters to come. Up until this point, she hasn't served too much of a purpose within the group other than to serve as an extra body/gun when needed, but considering the trouble that these people went through to abduct these inmates, I feel like it is unrealistic to believe that they would just grab someone without good reason – they did not only need criminals, they needed honest to God psychopathic villains. People who could do terrible things and make a show of it, and of course, they needed people who could help the others accomplish that. Barbara was a hell of a force in her own right and had information/ties that would prove useful to Galavan, Jerome was charismatic, chaotic, and downright viscous, Andrew was a giant, wall of a man and exceptionally strong – Abbie, on the other hand, has only ever really killed one person that we are aware of, and besides helping with the attack on the GCPD, she has not really contributed much of anything else to the Maniax...so we're going to be figuring out why exactly she was brought on board. While he doesn't really show it too much, I imagine that when Theo called Abbie away to speak with him in private, that Jerome was slightly put off by it – I tried to kind of hint towards that, though I'm not sure if that really came across the way I had intended it to, but I do imagine that he is, if nothing else, curious as to what Galavan has said to Abbie that he did not feel he could say in front of Jerome. And of course the first thing that Jerome does as soon as Abbie walks away is do the exact thing that she had told him not to do, and he goes to see Amelia, who isn't doing fantastic but is significantly better than she had been last time. As I'm sure you've probably guessed, we are going to be getting into a little bit more of her backstory with her family and whatnot, and I'm looking forward to working on that. Anyway, I've rambled long enough – I apologize for any errors that I might have missed and I hope that you enjoyed this update. As always, _Feedback/Reviews_ would be greatly, greatly appreciated! Thanks again for reading!**


	20. Part 1 Chapter 20

His hands rested deep within the large pockets of his sweatshirt as Jerome strolled aimlessly back and forth through the cramped room – there was hardly enough space for him to walk, to be honest, as the furniture had occupied so much of what little room there _was_ that practically all that was left was a little path to move between the different areas of the apartment. Despite the fact that it was obnoxiously small, the man could tell that a lot of thought and effort had gone into making the place cozy, if nothing else – it certainly felt homey, regardless of its shortcomings. Drawing his lower lip inward, he subconsciously bit down gently as he studied his surroundings; the walls were painted a calm, light blue color and were decorated with cute little pictures – no family photographs, he noted as he scanned the area. None whatsoever. He understood why she would not have any of her and her spouse, but she had mentioned earlier something about a brother and that she had done something bad, though she did not elaborate and he hadn't particularly cared enough at the time to press her about it. What could she have possibly done, he wondered, as he picked up a lavender owl figurine off of the narrow entertainment center, turning it in his hand a few times before placing it back down upon the wooden surface.

He could hear the sound of her rummaging through her belongings in the next room – her bedroom – tossing items carelessly to the side while shoving others into a black backpack. Amelia had quickly changed the topic after she had admitted that she had done something, thanking him for having washed her clothes, though she went on to grumble about the fact that they were **literally** all that she had left that were _hers_. He could not fault her for that – it had to be frustrating to have nothing to your name save for the clothes on your back, and so it was for that reason, as well as the fact that he simply had nothing better to do, that he agreed to accompany the girl to her apartment so that she could at least have a change of clothes.

 _"Yeah, Jerome – I did a bad thing."_

The boy stopped mid-stride, raising a hand to lightly pinch the bridge of his nose as her words echoed throughout his head, bouncing around the inside of his skull in an astoundingly irritating fashion. What had she done? He had sensed a darkness within her, sure, but Amelia...she was so scared, so timid...it gave him a slight amount of pause to consider that perhaps he had actually been right about her in a way, though he reasoned that that would be a most welcome revelation, at least for him, anyway. Casting his eyes towards the doorway, he watched for a moment as the tiny redhead scurried about, pulling open her closet and digging through her things before he cleared his throat.

"Why didn't you just go?" He asked out of the blue, his voice a little scratchy.

"Hm?"

"To Ann Arbor. To be with uhh...-," He trailed off, trying to recall if she had given him the man's name.

"My brother?" Amelia finished for him, shooting a quick glance his way before shoving some more clothing into her backpack.

"Yeah – what's his name?"

The girl laughed on the opposite side of the wall that separated them.

"No, no, no. I'm not gonna tell you his name."

"What? Why not? Don't ya trust me, doll?"

"Absolutely not," She answered, the laughter still evident in her voice.

The boy pouted a small amount as he stepped around the worn, black couch and approached the girls bedroom.

"Hey, now – if you wanna tally up the points, princess, I've done a lot more for you than anyone else has in a long time – that oughta be worth somethin'."

"You're not wrong, Jerome," She conceded, "But some things've gotta be kept sacred."

He cackled perhaps a bit more loudly and cruelly than he initially intended at her words before he spoke.

"You really think you have any business playin' a card like that? Huh, _Adulteress?_ "

Violently dragging the zipper of the bag across the track, closing the pocket, Amelia turned, moving to come to rest in the doorway that separated her room from the living area so that she could see her tormentor. She glared at the man before her, watching as he simply threw his hands up into the air.

"Just sayin," He said, a lopsided grin creeping up his face.

The girl shook her head softly.

"If there's a point that you're trying to make here, I'd appreciate it if you'd just get to it."

Jerome nodded and took a step forward.

"I'm just curious, is all – I'm no expert but it seems to me that you don't have to necessarily be living in the same state as your spouse in order to divorce them, so why would you stick around after she got locked up? Seems like that would be the perfect time to leave."

"I already told you why," She answered flatly.

"Mhm, because you, uh, 'did a bad thing', right?"

"Right."

"Well, that doesn't really explain a whole lot now, does it, sweetheart?"

Amelia sighed, lowering her eyes to the floor as she felt him approach, stopping just a few inches in front of where she stood.

"We...we had a rough family life. I did what I could to try to make it more bearable for the both of us, and things got...well, they got better, in a way, for a little while, but then they got bad again and instead of sticking it out and taking care of us – of him – I left. I left him to deal with the shit-show that was our family all by himself," She explained, clearing her throat a couple of times in attempt to hide the cracks in her voice.

"Ooh, family troubles. Fun."

"Not really."

"So, what'd they do to ya?" Jerome questioned, clearly unaware or otherwise unbothered by his own crassness.

She hesitated for second before she spoke.

"Nothing, really. It was what it was."

"Well, whatever _it_ was, it was obviously bad enough that you think that it'd be understandable for that brother of yours to never wanna see your pretty little face again. And that kind of a falling out doesn't tend to happen over 'nothing'. Now, I was honest with you when you asked me about myself, and I don't think I'm being terribly unreasonable to expect the same in return."

"You're right," She admitted quietly, "But I seem to remember a certain ginger sneaking into my room the night that you guys took me, and if I'm not mistaken, he grilled the shit out of me for a couple of hours, so if anything, I'd say that makes us about even."

With those words, she pushed past him, walking out into the living room and stopping at the console table that sat rested against the back of the sofa. Pulling open the shallow drawer, she flipped through the various envelopes and pens within, searching for anything that might be of use to her there before she felt Jerome come up behind her, placing his hands gently upon her hips. He was careful not to press too much on the spots where he had left bruises the night before, having grasped her perhaps a bit too hard while they were having their fun. He softly spun the small woman to face him, lowering his face so that their lips were a mere whisper away.

"C'mon, princess – it's not good to keep all that darkness bottled up, ya know," He murmured, resting his forehead against hers, "It'll eat you up if you don't let it out every once in a while."

"Says the blood-thirsty lunatic," She countered with a tiny smirk.

"Think you'd find it pretty therapeutic if ya would just give it a chance."

"Is that why you kill people? It's therapeutic for you?"

"Oh, no. I kill because it's **fun**."

The girl swallowed hard, feeling the hair on her arms stand on end as he finished his sentence. The way that he had said it left no question that he was not trying to be menacing, he was not being sarcastic or making a bad joke – he was _sincere_.

"You've got a pretty fucked up idea of fun, kid."

Jerome chuckled softly.

"Don't knock it 'til ya try it, sweetheart."

Amelia opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of the knob to the front door turning – she realized in that moment that neither she nor Jerome had bothered to lock it behind them when they had entered and she froze in terror as she watched it slowly swing open. Jerome immediately stepped away from the woman, pulling his handgun from the band of his jeans and aiming it directly at the interloper, visibly tensing as the old man came into view.

"Amelia? Is that you, child?" Her elderly neighbor called to her, shuffling just inside of the door as he tapped his cane against the floor.

"Ye – yeah, it's me. Just stoppin' in to grab a few things. What's goin' on, Paul? Everything alright?" She asked, stepping forward to stop the man from venturing further into her home.

"I'm not sure - is it? I heard on the news that you had been taken captive by that group – the Maniax – and now, here you are...-"

"Yeah...yeah, that was...an ordeal but, I got away. And now I really have to get my shit and get out of dodge before they get wise, okay?" She lied as she attempted to usher the man out.

"You got away?" He inquired skeptically.

"Yes."

"Then who were you talking to?"

Amelia's face fell, finding herself at a complete loss as to how she should respond before she turned her eyes upon Jerome, as if he would hold the answer. She watched as he clicked the safety off of his gun and readjusted his aim – looking the boy dead in the eye, she shook her head and mouthed the word 'no'. He seemed to take her request to heart, in spite of the burning hatred that was evident upon his young face.

"No one," She said, "Was talkin' to myself is all."

"Mm," Paul responded, making his doubt glaringly obvious, "Very well, then."

"I appreciate the concern. I really do. But I need to get goin' and uhm...if anyone comes around asking about me, you didn't see me, alright?"

The old man chuckled slightly at her poor choice of words.

"Of course I haven't, dear. Just...remember what I told you last time."

"Of course," She smiled, offering him a small 'goodbye' before swinging the door shut behind him as he stepped out into the corridor.

Turning on her heel, she watched as Jerome roughly pushed his weapon back into his waistband, his lips drawn together tightly as his eyes burned into the floor.

"Are you okay?" She called to him, somewhat frightened by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

"I'm fine," He clipped, turning to make his way towards the bedroom, refusing to raise his gaze.

"Okay – that's a lie."

"Don't really feel like talkin' 'bout it, Amelia."

She paused for a moment – it was unusual to hear him address her by her actual name. Quickly regaining her ground, she came to stand just behind the man.

"So, when I don't wanna talk about something, it's totally cool to press the issue but when you don't want to -"

Without warning, he whipped around and grabbed at her jaw with an almost crushing amount of force, silencing her instantly as his eyes bore into hers.

"Drop it," He growled.

The girl bobbed her head in agreement, rubbing gingerly at her jaw when he released her from his grasp. She watched as he picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder, stepping back as he turned to face her once more.

"This everything?" He queried.

"Ye..yeah. Think so," She answered meekly.

"Good – let's get the fuck out of here."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! So, Amelia and Jerome came dangerously close to almost having a kind of sweet moment before Paul had to show up and fuck everything up. I know in the show Jerome doesn't seem to really be fazed too much when Paul is revealed as being his father and that he says, when he goes to plant the evidence for Theo and kill him that he's not doing it because he was a bad father and all that jazz, but I feel like there would definitely be some very strong feelings of resentment there. I mean, I feel like Jerome kind of resents everyone and everything, but this a man who he has known his entire life, who knew how his mother was and how she was treating him, and who had every opportunity and reason to intervene, but didn't. And not only did he not intervene, he straight up told this crying little boy that no one cared about him – so, in my head, Jerome's got some serious issues with Paul. I worry sometimes that I humanize Jerome a bit too much – that I make him too normal or something sometimes, but, as I'm sure I've said before, I feel like people are complex creatures and that even the crazy ones have their quieter sides...I also feel like the scariest villains aren't the ones who are murder and mayhem 24/7, but the ones who could almost pass for decent human beings from time to time. The ones who mask their demons well. Anyways, I apologize for any errors I may have missed when rechecking this and I hope you enjoyed the update – Please, Please, Please, if you would be so kind, I would greatly appreciate _Feedback/Reviews_ – thank you for reading! **


	21. Part 1 Chapter 21

Jerome ambled through the entryway, taking care to keep a fair amount of distance between himself and the girl before him in spite of his outwardly placid demeanor – she had been unnaturally quiet the entire way back to the penthouse, though he had to admit that he had not made much of an attempt to remedy the situation. He knew well enough to be able to gather when someone was upset with him, and although he was usually the type to face those kind of problems head-on, he got the distinct impression that his current situation would require a bit more tact. Rounding the corner into the living room, he cast his eyes to the side and watched with some degree of amusement as Amelia darted up the steps, her small hands clasping tightly at the straps of her backpack; he smirked, his gaze resting at the top of the stairs where she had left his line of sight before he felt a pair of eyes upon him.

"Somethin' I can do for ya, Abs?" He queried sardonically, shifting his attention to the woman who was seated on the couch. She had been fiddling with a handful of tiny gadgets, each no bigger than a thimble when he had strolled through the threshold between the two rooms, immediately catching her attention and causing her to cease her task.

"Yeah - I'm pretty sure we _literally_ just talked about it," She snarled, gathering the devices into the palm of her hand and carefully placing them into a small, black handbag.

"Ah, yeah - ya got me. Girl needed a change of clothes, though and it's not like I had anything better to do so -"

"What was wrong with the clothes that she had?"

"Other than the blood stains? Nothin'. She seemed to be kind off-put by it, though and it's not like she really had a change of clothes ready to go when we snatched her," He explained with disinterest as he took a few steps forward.

"There are three other women in this apartment and Amelia and I aren't too far off in size – if she needed clothes, she could have come to me."

"And yet she didn't. What a surprise," The boy drawled, a vicious expression upon his young face.

"You shouldn't have taken her is all I'm saying. Besides the fact that you're supposed to be leaving her alone, that was a stupid risk to take. You two could have been spotted and been swarmed by a fuckin' army of cops before you even knew it, and for what?"

Jerome rolled his eyes, though admittedly, she did have a point.

"Yeah, well, there's a silver-lining...I mean, your girl's got some of her own clothes, so maybe she'll feel a bit more...I dunno – _cozy_ \- and if not, well, at least now I know where Cicero is."

Abbie paused, looking the boy dead in the eyes as a look of mild astonishment crossed her face.

"Cicero? The guy we're supposed to be pinnin' the breakout on? Your -"

"Yup," Jerome answered, deliberately not allowing the woman to finish her sentence, "Found him. Turns out he's been livin' in the same apartment building as your wife – they're neighbors."

"Wow," Abbie mumbled, "Small world."

"Mhm."

"He must be using an alias or something, because I've been looking for him too and I couldn't find the son of a bitch anywhere."

The boy quirked an eyebrow at her.

" _You've_ been looking for him? How?"

"How does anyone look for anything these days," She scoffed, "Computers, internet searches, you know – technology and stuff. I'm pretty good at it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Before my dad went off the rails and turned into a total piece of shit, he was like...a computer security specialist or something. I picked up a lot from him but mostly I just taught myself."

"Uh-huh...well, good for you, I guess," He responded slowly, figuring he ought to say something although he had no real input to offer.

"Yeah, well – girl's gotta make a living somehow."

Jerome nodded, shifting his eyes over towards the black purse that sat on the coffee table in front of her.

"So, what were those things you were messin' around with?"

"Bugs," Abbie replied simply, "Guess there's some people Galavan would like to keep an eye on, so I'm off to go take care of that."

"Need any help?" He asked, not entirely sold on the idea of aiding the brunette but finding the idea of sitting around with nothing to do to be much less appealing.

"No, Tabitha's already comin' with and this should be pretty easy."

The boy grumbled in acknowledgment, his irritation plain as day to the woman as she pushed herself to her feet and slung the thin strap of the bag over her shoulder.

"If it's any consolation, I'd almost rather go with you than Tabitha. She's kind of a bitch."

A short laugh fell from his lips.

"Yeah, well – have fun, I guess," He offered, giving the woman a curt nod as she stepped around the furniture and made towards the door.

"I'll try," She called back to him, "And for the last time – stay away from Amelia or I'll gut you!"

Jerome smirked at her threat, turning as the sound of the front door clicking shut pierced through the still air of the penthouse. Allowing his gaze to wander about the area, he was almost surprised to find Theo had emerged from his office. He stood across the room from him, dressed as he typically did, adjusting his tie before he cleared his throat and offered the boy a warm smile, or the closest thing that he could manage, anyway.

"Ah, Jerome! You're back – that's fantastic," He announced, "I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

* * *

Amelia had barred herself up in her room, wasting no time unpacking the bag of clothes and taking the opportunity to reflect on her situation – she was lucky to even be alive at this point, that much she knew, and although she had seriously considered the possibility of ending her life, she had come to the realization that that was not truly what she wanted. She felt foolish for having contemplated it as a viable option, knowing it was simply that it had seemed like the easiest way out of her predicament at the time, but honestly...what would be the end result should she actually _try_ to save herself and fail? Death was most likely, she reasoned – so why _not_ try? Admittedly, she had placed herself in a rather precarious situation, having acted on impulse and given in to the bizarre attraction she felt towards the cruel, if not charismatic leader of the small band of criminal lunatics – it had been a terrible idea, an unjustifiable mistake, though she found that she still felt a somewhat alarming fondness for the boy and that, as much as she did not want to acknowledge it, it was a mistake that she had thoroughly enjoyed making. She knew it was insane to even consider, but there had certainly been a few times where - if she hadn't known better - she would dare to say that she had caught a glimpse of something that seemed almost decent and human within Jerome...and perhaps just the smallest amount of partiality towards her. It was a long shot, but all that she could really do, she reasoned, was bide her time, try to come up with a sensible plan for escape, and hope that maybe she wasn't crazy – that the boy had actually taken a liking to her...at least enough of one to make it possible for her to persuade him to help her, or if nothing else, to not try to stop her from leaving when the time came.

Plucking the discarded bath towel from the other night from foot of her bed, she draped it over her arm and made her way out into the corridor. She was not particularly in need of a shower, but her body was bruised and sore, she didn't feel like socializing, and she figured that standing beneath a torrent of steaming hot water might soothe her a bit. She only made it a few steps outside of her door when she heard movement behind her – turning, she watched as Jerome pulled the door to his bedroom open, coming to stand just within its frame as he propped himself against it using his shoulder. He studied her face for a moment, his eyes briefly resting on the light bruise that had begun to form along her jaw where he had grabbed her, his expression flat and difficult to discern.

"What do you want, Jerome?" She asked quietly, shifting slightly where she stood.

The boy shook his head gently.

"Nothin'," He muttered, "You, uh...you mad at me, doll, or are we good?"

Amelia smiled inwardly, not daring to let it show for fear of how the sociopath might interpret it.

"No. We're good."

Tilting his head, he shot the woman a skeptical look.

"C'mon now, princess – I know I got a little... _carried_ _away_ back there -"

"Yeah, you did," She interjected softly, enjoying the mildly taken aback look upon the man's face "But I get it. Doesn't make it okay, mind you, but I get it. You didn't want to talk about it and I shouldn't have tried to make you...you don't ever have to tell me anything that you don't want to, but I expect you to extend that same kind of courtesy to me in the future, okay?"

After a moment, the ginger bobbed his head lightly.

"Okay," He answered, his voice barely audible.

Offering him a tiny smile, Amelia thanked him and continued on her way towards the bathroom, feeling his eyes at her back all the while.

"He's my dad."

The girl stopped dead in her tracks, turning her gaze back to Jerome with a solemn look of understanding etched across her face. She watched as he shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, fidgeting with his hands and biting softly at the inside of his cheek.

"You asked if I was alright back there and...I wasn't, but of course, you figured that one out on your own. But, uh...yeah – that's pops! Been lookin' for him, so it's a good thing I suppose, but it wasn't exactly my idea of a pleasant surprise," He explained, scratching absently at the side of his head as he worked to suppress the giggles that wanted to burst forth from his mouth.

She stared at him for a moment, her head reeling from this new information as she struggled to find her words.

"P-Paul? Paul is your father?"

"Yep," Jerome confirmed tightly before sucking in a sharp intake of air, "Anyways, I've got stuff to do so I'll leave ya to it."

With those words, he promptly took a step back and swung the door shut, leaving Amelia to stand, dumbfounded, in the hallway alone.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! So, not _too_ much to say this time other than that I feel like Amelia is slowly (very slowly) maybe beginning to pull herself together a little bit and that she composed herself fairly well here. Jerome had, understandably, frightened her with his hostility in the last update and although there was a small time frame here in which she did not speak to him and she very deliberately put distance between herself and him upon getting back to their hideout, she did not cower from him, she did not go into her room and panic as she has done before. She merely went into her room, put her shit away, and contemplated her situation for a bit before deciding she wanted a shower...and when he came out to confront her, she didn't try to shy away from it at all, she wasn't really confrontational or submissive, and I feel like she handled it in a really good way, where she acknowledged his reasoning for feeling the way he did and doing what he did in response to it, though she did not condone it, but she admitted that she should not have tried to press him, either. She basically told him that it is understandable and okay to NOT be okay with someone trying to push him into doing shit he doesn't want to, but that he needs to be willing to extend that same courtesy unto others. I dunno...maybe I'm just nuts but I really liked writing that and seeing that conversation go down in my head. I imagined it as a very gentle, mature kind of conversation between these two characters that ultimately led to him offering up this information, this explanation as to what exactly his problem was, something that was deeply troubling to him, in spite of the fact that she had just told him that he did not have to. Anyways, I apologize for any errors I may have missed and I hope that you enjoyed this update – and if you would be so kind, _**Pleaasee leave Feedback/Reviews**_ – I'd love to hear from you! **


	22. Part 1 Chapter 22

_**A Little Over Three Years Earlier**_

 _Amelia shifted in her seat, reaching out and readjusting the outrageous amount of cutlery that had been set out on the table before her as she allowed her eyes to flit around the restaurant. She did not belong there and she was certain that everyone else could sense that, although she had no evidence to support this – she could just feel it. Pulling away from the utensils, she dropped her hands into her lap and scratched absently at her palm, hoping that the feeling would help keep her grounded. She wasn't sure why Abbie had opted to take them there in the first place, and she knew for a fact that the establishment was far out of their price range. With Amelia attending school, the best – or rather, the most accommodating – job that she had been able to find was a bar-tending gig at some seedy place deep in the south end of Gotham and Abbie...well, she had gone about providing in an entirely different way. She was not one-hundred percent sure of what, exactly, it was that Abbie did to earn her money, though she could piece bits of it together based off of what she had seen and heard – it seemed to Amelia that her girlfriend had gotten a bit **creative** with her computer and was somehow using this to her advantage in order to "persuade" people into giving her money. As dangerous as it seemed and as uncomfortable as it made her to even think about it, the girl had elected not to try to interfere – after all, it was not as though she were making a killing doing it, so she couldn't possibly have been targeting anyone of any real importance, right?_

 _"Can you settle down over there? I'm getting anxious just looking at ya," Abbie teased from across the table, her gaze dancing between the menu and the redhead.  
A whiff of air pushed past Amelia's lips as she forced a smile across her face, doing her best to ignore the tightness in her chest.  
"Right, right. I'm sorry. It's just...you didn't – you didn't hurt anybody, did you?" She questioned, her voice tentative and hushed, leaning in slightly as the words left her.  
"What? No," The brunette giggled, "God, what is it that you think that I do?"  
"That's the thing – I dunno, but I **do** know that we definitely can't afford this place and there's more than one way to hurt somebody."  
Abbie bobbed her head, flipping the menu shut as she turned her attention wholly to the woman opposite of her.  
"Yeah, you're right about that," She confessed, "It's just...men are so fucking dumb, ya know?  
They're like big, dumb animals that think with their cocks eighty percent of the time. It doesn't matter if they're married, if they've got families...so many of them just fuck it all away. It's crazy...they're not even good at hiding it either! It's all there –in their e-mails, their texts...it's all just waiting to be dug up."_

 _"And you do the digging?"  
"Of course I do," Abbie replied casually, "And that's why we get to have a nice dinner tonight.  
You're welcome."  
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I just worry – like, what happens if you wind up digging through the wrong man's shit, ya know? Around here I'm pretty sure that means I'd have to start pilfering through dumpsters tryin' to find pieces of you to bury." _

_The woman laughed, though whatever humor there was in what she had said was completely lost upon Amelia._

 _"Yeah, I don't think you're gonna have to worry about that, babe, and besides, it's really not so different from what you do, so I don't wanna hear no lectures."_

 _"I make people drinks," Amelia stated, her brow furrowed._

 _"Mhm, and then reach into their pockets when they're nice and fucked up and aren't payin' any attention."_

 _Amelia opened and closed her mouth a few times before she was able to come up with a response._

 _"I...it's not the same," She argued weakly._

 _"Mm...you're right. In your case, if you get caught slipping your hand into the wrong man's pocket, you might lose your job and, ya know, your life. Like...immediately."_

 _Slumping in her chair, the redhead picked at her fingernails as she cast her eyes down to the floor. This was not an argument that she could win and she knew it. A silence hung between them for a few minutes before Abbie piped up._

 _"Hey, I'm sorry...let's not talk about that kinda stuff, okay? Let's just have a good time and enjoy this," She suggested, gazing lovingly at her partner._

 _"Okay," Amelia agreed with a small smile as she straightened her back to sit up higher in her chair._

 _"Good - awesome," Abbie beamed, "Cause I, uh, I have something for you."_

 _Watching as she rummaged around in her purse, Amelia raised her eyebrows as the woman produced a small, black box and nudged it across the table towards her. Her heart sank into her stomach as she stared at it, overwhelmingly aware of what was about to happen. Her hands coiled into loose fists beneath the table as she waited for Abbie to speak._

 _"I'm no good at these kind of things...and I mean, I know that you've been through a lot lately – so have I – but...I love you. I love you **so** much and nothing is ever going to change that...so, what do you think?"_

 _Amelia bobbed her head softly, unable to tear her eyes away from the box before her as she attempted to clear her throat, only to find that it felt unusually dry and swollen._

 _"I love you, too," She rasped, finally flicking her eyes up to meet Abbie's._

 _"So, is that a 'yes'?"_

 _Every rational fiber of Amelia's being cried for her to take this opportunity to end their relationship – there was simply too much negativity associated with this woman for her to be able to move past it, but she found that she could not, in good conscious, really hold it against her, either. **She** was not the problem, after all. **She** was not the one who had killed a man – she had covered it up, sure, but it was not fair of Amelia to allow something that **she** had done to tarnish her feelings for the woman that she had loved and who had been so loyal to her. Locking eyes with her companion, she knew that she had to give her an answer. Whetting her lips with her tongue, Amelia pushed a grin onto her face before she responded._

 _"Yes."_

* * *

Hurling herself unceremoniously into the passenger seat of the black sedan, Abigail shot a brief glance towards the drivers side, knowing on instinct that Tabitha was scowling at her behind the large sunglasses that concealed her face.

"Everything's in place then, I take it?" She inquired, a distinct edge to her voice.

"Yes," Abbie answered flatly.

"And no one saw you?"

"Of course not."

"Great," The older woman replied shortly, twisting the key in the ignition to start the vehicle, "Guess you're good for something after all."

Crossing her arms across her chest, Abbie stared out the window and observed the city as they passed through it.

"Should've just let Jerome come with me," She grumbled, more to herself than anything.

" _Jerome_?" Tabitha questioned, her eyes narrowing as a tiny smirk spread across her face, "Really? Why him?"

The girl shrugged.

"He's got a big mouth, but he's not entirely insufferable like _some people_ -"

"Fuck you."

"And besides," Abbie continued, overlooking the woman's remark, "At least if he were here I'd know that he's not being an asshole and fucking with Amelia."

"Oh, you know about that, huh?" Tabby asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

Confused, Abbie turned to face the other woman, poring over her momentarily before she spoke.

"What do you mean? 'Know about' what?"

Firing a glance sideways, Tabitha examined the girl and let out a bitter laugh upon realizing that she had misinterpreted her meaning.

"Oh God – you _don't_ , do you?!"

"No - what the fuck are you talking about?" Abbie seethed, her anger building at an impossibly fast rate.

"Oh, this is too good!"

"Tabitha, I swear to fucking God -"

"When's the last time you looked at your wife?"

Abbie blinked a few times, thrown by the peculiar question.

"Uhm, I dunno. Like a day ago?"

"No – I mean _really,_ _ **really**_ looked at her. You done that recently?"

"Of course I have," Abbie snapped defensively.

"Yeah?" Tabitha sneered, "Notice anything _funny_ on her neck?"

"...No."

"Then you haven't been looking."  
"What the _fuck_ are you trying to say?" Abbie growled, her jaw clenched as her hands balled up in her lap.

"Only that I think you'd be surprised at what you'll find if you just pull your head out of your ass long enough to take a look."

It fell quiet for quite some time, the two women riding together in silence as they made their way back home. Abbie fought with everything that she had to keep her anger and her tears at bay – she was not an idiot, Tabitha's implications had not gone over her head...she just didn't want to think about it. Entertaining the idea that she could be right, even for a second, caused a wrenching sensation in the girls chest and she had to bring her hand up to hastily whisk away a tear. The shift in Abigail's demeanor did not go unnoticed by Tabitha, who periodically peaked out of her peripherals towards her before she offered her the only words that she could think to say.

"Oh, c'mon on now, Abbie...why'd you _think_ he was being so nice?"

* * *

 **A/N: Ugh. Goddamnit Tabitha. So, not too much to say here – we kinda got a little bit of a peak into more of Abbie and Amelia's backstory – Abbie clearly had a bit of a knack for swindling unfaithful men out of some cash and Amelia had a talent for pick-pocketing patrons at her place of work. They were young and struggling and in a city like Gotham, I imagine that sometimes you'd have to do some shitty things to even just keep your head above water. We also learned that Amelia has got more of a body count than what we had previously known about – so it'll be fun writing that up for you all to learn about at some point. Other than that, Abbie is now extremely suspicious (well, she pretty much knows, I guess, but not really) that something has happened between Amelia and Jerome and although I'm sure Jerome is gonna be incredibly disappointed that he's not going to get to hold this over Amelia's head or be the one to throw it in Abbie's face, I doubt he's going to be terribly surprised either – he's a roll-with-the-punches kinda guy, anyways so it'll be fun to see how he handles it. Anyway, this chapter was initially going to be much longer, but I decided to split it into two parts for my own sanity, basically, but that means that the outline for the next chapter has already been written and so it should be out rather soon. I do try to update fairly regularly, and I will continue to do what I can but between work and everything, it does get difficult and sometimes it is simply just hard to find the motivation to do it. I very much enjoy writing, but it can be taxing at times as well. But yeah, as always I apologize for any errors that I may have missed, I hope that you enjoyed this update – the next one should be up hopefully this weekend. And Please, if you would, ** _Leave A Review/Feedback**_ – I can't explain to you how motivating it is when those actually do come in. I don't write for reviews alone but Holy shit, do they put some pep in my step. And thank you to those of you who have been kind enough to send me something – I appreciate it more than words can say! **


	23. Part 1 Chapter 23

Jerome sat on the beige sofa, his long legs stretched out and resting on the coffee table in front of him as his eyes flickered across the letter in his hand – it was a forgery, of course - something Galavan had conjured up in order to cast the blame for their escape from Arkham onto his old man. While the boy was keen to get to work and extinguish his father's life, he found the specifics of how, exactly, he was to be framed somewhat repulsive. They were painting him almost as if he were a man who cared for his son...and maybe, perhaps, he really had there for a minute, but it had been far, far too late by that point. Brushing the pad of his thumb across the paper, he felt the small patterns of raised dots that had furtively been placed inbetween the letter's written content – a secret message planning Jerome's escape from the nut-house with the help of his dear ol' dad. He found the idea laughable, but hey, whatever worked, right? Though, even in spite of Jerome's low opinion in regards to the intelligence of the average cop, he could not help but to wonder how Galavan expected that a _**blind man**_ _,_ who lived alone, writing and receiving letters from his incarcerated son would not strike someone as being at least mildly suspicious.

Without warning, a thunderous crashing sound resonated throughout the apartment, catching the boys attention, although he was not impressed by the passive display of aggression as he watched Abigail come into view only to quickly disappear up the stairs, a ferocious look upon her face. Pulling his legs inward, Jerome pushed himself so that he sat in a more upright position before leaning back in a lazy attempt to assess what was happening, though if he had to wager a guess, he was fairly certain what this was. She had gone out with _Tabitha_ , after all, and if anyone among them wanted to see this whole Amelia thing blow up in Abbie's face, it was her. While Abbie's fixation with her wife had been the source of great annoyance for everyone who had to hear about it, Tabitha seemed to have taken Amelia's presence about as well as a slap to the face – she had specifically told the unhinged woman 'no' when she had requested that they include her spouse in their little gang and yet a few days later, there she was, and in spite of everything that she and Theo had discussed, he turned around and gave her the okay to stay, anyway.

Rising to his feet, Jerome dropped the letter onto the couch and clasped his hands behind his back. He had hoped to draw this out for a while, holding it over his beautiful little conquest's head and watching it eat away at her; he had wanted desperately to be the one to throw it in Abbie's face when the time was right, to see the small amount of light that was left in her eyes die with the knowledge that the only person in the whole world that she cared for had betrayed her...but this would have to do. And so he simply stood in wait for the woman to return.

Upstairs, Amelia plopped down with one leg curled beneath her as she picked through the pile of clothing that she had brought out onto the bed, pleased to actually have a choice in what she could wear for the first time in what felt like forever. Discarding the towel from her body, she had just managed to pull on her undergarments before the bedroom door flew open, crashing into the wall behind it. Whipping her head to the side, Amelia immediately took a few steps back as she saw Abbie stalk in towards her, a grim expression written across her features.

"What the fuck?" She blurted out, raising an arm up defensively as the woman approached her, leaving very little space between their bodies.

"Just checking up on you," Abbie explained, an icy edge to her voice as her eyes roamed over Amelia's exposed form, "Wanted to see how you were doin'."

"I'm fine. Tryin' to get dressed though, so if I could please have some privacy for a second?"

She stared at the woman who was still diligently studying her body, listening as she made a soft, unintelligible response before raising her eyes to meet her spouse's gaze. Reaching forward, Abbie ran her long, thin fingers through Amelia's hair, pulling it back and gently tucking it behind her ear before peering down at the faint pink mark near the crook of the girl's neck. Amelia was perplexed at first, watching as Abbie's expression grew darker and her shoulders sunk, before it occurred to her what she had found. In an instant, Amelia clapped a hand over the mark and inched away from her, raising her other arm up to wrap around her waist in a feeble attempt to cover the bruises that had been left there, but it was of no use. The moment that Amelia had shifted back, Abbie raked her brown orbs across the woman, taking in the view of her body in it's entirety – a spot on her neck, bruises at her hips, a small cut near her collarbone...she saw it all.

"Abbie...," Amelia said, her voice hardly more than a whisper as she trailed off, any and all idea's of what to say vacating her panicked mind.

Abbie tore her gaze away from the woman before her – she had to, as it hurt too much to look at her and think about what might've happened. She had always had an issue with accepting certain truths, for holding out hope in spite of all of the evidence to the contrary when something bad would happen – it was, in many ways, her biggest flaw. She was incredibly pessimistic where it was not particularly warranted, and overly optimistic towards those who were perhaps the least deserving, and in the most futile of situations. She had a skewed view of the world and all that inhabited it, and only had the mind to accept what truths pleased and validated her way of thinking. Dragging her eyes across the surface of the dresser, she stilled as they locked onto a small, black switchblade – biting down on the inside of her lip, Abbie began to tremble at the sight of it. She had seen the bastard toying with it enough to know who it belonged to. Without a word, she snatched the weapon from its place and whirled around, leaving the room and storming down the steps.

"Son of a _**bitch**_ ," She spat, rushing towards Jerome, who stood towards the far end of the living room, looking as though he had been thoughtfully waiting for her the entire time.

"You're not wrong," He replied, a lopsided grin forming on his lips as he watched the woman come to a sudden halt just short of him, her eyes wild, angry, and wet.

She merely stayed there for a moment, examining him as if she would find some sort of explanation written somewhere on his face. The boy quickly grew impatient and began to try to help things progress.

"Somethin' you need to get off your chest, Abs? Hm?"

She continued to gape at him, her mind far too muddled to piece together a cohesive sentence.

"Well, c'mon, girl – spit it out!"

Her expression contorting into something nearly feral, Abbie pulled her arm back and hurled her fist into Jerome's face – he felt the bridge of his nose pop before the warm, familiar sensation of blood dripping down his face registered with him. Stumbling back a small amount from the blow, Jerome was quick to right himself, ignoring the throbbing pain in his face.

"That works, too!" He giggled, wiping at the crimson liquid in an attempt to clean himself, though he only succeeded in smearing it around his mouth.

"What the **fuck** did you do?" Abbie demanded, her voice low and quivering.

His laughter ceased and his face fell, becoming somewhat serious as he squinted his eyes at the woman before him.

"Isn't it obvious?" He questioned, flicking his eyes up only for a moment as he caught a glimpse of Amelia hurriedly descending the staircase.

Swallowing thickly, Abbie struggled to force the next words off of her tongue.

"She...she has a mark on her neck -"

"Yeah."

"And bruises on her hips -"

"Mhm."

"And I did not put them there," She clarified, doing her utmost to keep her voice calm and even.

"Well, duh."

Taking a second to fill her lungs with air, Abbie conjured all of the strength that she had to lock eyes with the maniac.

"Did you rape her?" The question fell from her lips so softly that the boy hardly caught it, even as close as they were to one another.

Shooting her a cynical look, Jerome absentmindedly ran his fingers across the bottom half of his face.

"Now, why would you assume that?" He asked, his tone quiet and harsh.

"Because you're a sick fuck who gets off on hurting and manipulating people and because you've been hovering over her," She growled.

"That all seems very circumstantial."

"Stop, Jerome. I'm not playin' your games, I'm not gonna jump through hoops...just – just answer the fucking question."

A sense of calm seemed to wash over the boy as he leaned his long torso down, bringing his face closer to his peer before a malicious smile pulled his lips.

"Would that be easier for you to hear?" He inquired lightly.

Before she could respond, Amelia spoke up.

"Abbie, stop! This is stupid, just leave it be! He'll -"

"We're just talking!" Abigail interrupted, refusing to even cast a look in her partner's direction.

"Yeah, well you need to know when to quit! This isn't a fight that you can win – don't be a fucking idiot!"

"This motherfucker is going to admit what he did, goddamnit!" Abbie snapped, balling her hands up tightly.

The ginger before her chuckled cruelly, delighting in her rage and her pain as she shoved violently at his chest.

"Say it!" She barked, a few tears breaking free from her lids.

"Oh, alright, toots," He grinned, "Ya got me."

"Say it," She reiterated gruffly.

Jerome stared at her for a beat before lifting his eyes to look across the room at Amelia, who had wrapped her arms around herself as she watched in horror at the scene unfolding in front of her.

"I raped her," He said, his smile faltering and his gaze lingering on the redhead, "I raped your pretty little wife – couldn't help myself. She's just so... _cute_ and a man has needs, ya know?"

"That's all bullshit. He's lying to you," Amelia blurted out, taking a step forward.

A look of genuine surprise crossed the boys face as he regarded her. He had just generously offered her a way out of this, and yet she had tossed it away.

Abbie slowly turned herself to face the woman behind her, her eyes red and her cheeks stained with tears.

"What?" She asked softly.

"None of that is true. That's...that's not what happened."

"So...nothing happened?"

Amelia was silent for a moment, hesitant to reveal the whole truth, but she would be damned if she was going to spend her life burying even one more secret beneath some sort of flimsy facade.

"You're saying that nothing happened, right?" Abbie repeated, almost pleadingly.

"No."

Abbie's face scrunched slightly in confusion as she waited for Amelia to continue.

"I...I've tried to tell you. I've tried to tell you more times than I can even remember but you never wanted to hear it, you never wanted to listen – anything that was unpleasant for you to hear you just...you tune it out or you lash out and end the conversation before it can get far enough for you to hear what you need to -"

"What? What're you even talking about?" Abbie whimpered.

"I'm bisexual. I always have been, but you wouldn't fucking have it because you...I don't know...felt threatened or something. Every single time I'd try to discuss this with you -"

"I – what? What does this have to do with anything?!"

"He didn't rape me, Abbie -"

"Yeah, you said that already -"

"He didn't rape me - we had sex!" Amelia shouted.

Abbie stared at Amelia, her mouth slightly agape as tears continued to flow down her face, her chest heaving as she failed to find words strong enough to articulate her feelings. Amelia did not particularly care to hear them, anyway, as she weakly threw her hands in the air and shrugged.

"It shouldn't have happened, but it did. I'm sorry," She offered, though it sounded distant and insincere.

Turning to make her way back towards the stairs, Amelia noticed that the other dwellers of the penthouse had emerged, forming a small group near the entryway between the front room and the living room, observing the drama with childlike amusement.

"Shows over, assholes," She muttered as she dragged her feet across the floor.

Wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks, Abbie watched as Amelia turned her back on her and began to leave – her mind was blank, her heart full of hate as she brushed her thumb across the cold metal of the blade in her hand. Hastily, Abbie moved towards the girl, catching her and grabbing a fistful of her crimson hair, yanking her back harshly. The stinging pain caused her to cry out, though she was quicker to respond than Abbie had anticipated – swinging her elbow into the brunette's gut and spinning herself around before smashing her small fist into the side of her head. Abbie recoiled from the impact, raising her hand to cradle the side of her face as she straightened herself out.

"Fuck you!" She sobbed, her rage stoked by the sound of Jerome's gleeful cackling in the background "Fuck you for doing this to me, you fucking bitch! After everything I've done for you! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Amelia seethed, "Everything that you've done, you've done for _yourself_."

"I protected you!" Abbie spat as she took a swing at Amelia, which the woman barely managed to dodge.

"I never asked you to!" She retorted, bringing her knee up into her wife's stomach.

She watched as Abbie hunched over, gripping at her belly as she backed away.

"I'm sorry, I really am. For everything. Nothing should have gone the way that it has...I'm sorry for what I've put you through, Abbie, but if we're being honest here, you and I should have been done a long, long time ago."

Amelia ran a single hand through her tresses as she waited for some sort of response from the woman, but she remained silent, her long, dark hair masking her face. Suddenly, Abbie righted herself and lunged forward, producing the switchblade and plunging it just beneath Amelia's breast before the girl even had the opportunity to react. She froze for a moment, like she was not quite sure of what had just happened, before allowing her gaze to fall to the source of the deep, burning pain in her abdomen. Seeing the knife protruding from her flesh, she reached up and delicately wrapped her small fingers around it. She had enough sense to not attempt to remove it from her body, but she felt compelled to hold it nevertheless, painfully aware of all of the signs firing inside of her that she was about to go into shock.

The room had fallen completely silent as the girl staggered backwards, stopping only when her back collided with the wall – she sunk to the floor, finding that she no longer possessed the strength to stand. Her vision started to become clouded with dark spots as she watched Abbie step forward, advancing on her once more before a tall figure moved in from the side, encompassing Abigail's throat with one large hand and slamming her brutally against the wall in front of him. He held her there, his vice-like grasp pinning the woman, her feet unable to touch the floor as his eyes raked across her face with a kind of fury that she had never seen.

"Bit of an overreaction, don't ya think?" He said through gritted teeth as he tightened his grip, choking off her air supply.

Amelia observed the scene before her - almost in awe - watching as Jerome coiled his hand around her wife's throat, his jaw set and a murderous grin forming upon his lips before she felt a chill envelope her and she faded away.

* * *

 **A/N: Fucckkk – so I'm not going to lie, I found this incredibly hard to write. It was fun, but difficult, if that makes any sense. This was one of those scene's that I've had bouncing around in my head since I started planning this story out, so I was pretty pumped to write it and although, as I said, it was hard to really get it out into words, I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out, and I hope you are, too. I always had this idea that Jerome would have this terrible secret to hold over Amelia's head and that, in the moment, when it came time for him to be able to pull that trigger/throw Amelia under the bus, he would kinda back the fuck off and do something almost admirable in trying to help her (in this case, he lied and admitted to doing something he hadn't done). Like, sure he has helped her before, but he was deeply aggravated by the fact that he had and he had done it, at least in part, because he simply wasn't done toying with her yet. He's still not, of course, but as we'll see, his attempts here were perhaps a bit more sincere than the ones that he had previously made. Anyway, I wanted to take this opportunity to also thank those of you who were kind enough to leave me some feedback – so thank you, so so so much! I really appreciate it! As always, I apologize for any errors I may have missed and I hope that you enjoyed this update and if you would Please be so kind, _**Reviews/Feedback are always encouraged**_ – they literally give me life sometimes so, do it up you guys, I'd love to hear from you! **


	24. Part 1 Chapter 24

The very first thing that Amelia noticed as she gradually began to regain consciousness was a strange, overwhelming ringing in her ears coupled with an impossibly strong, throbbing kind of pressure in her ribs – she felt weak, weaker than she could ever remember feeling in her entire life as she peeled her eyes open, blinking a few times as she struggled to focus her sight on her surroundings. This place, whatever it was, was wholly unfamiliar to her, much to the girl's dismay – she scanned the area, disoriented and frightened, as she searched frantically for something that would give her any type of indication for where she was. It was a modest room with gray walls – there were a few bookshelves and small paintings, but not much else, save for a fireplace, although Amelia could not see it from where she laid; the warm, flickering light that danced across the walls along with the distinct crackling sound of the flames signaled it's presence to her. Shifting, the woman attempted to push herself up by her elbows, but was stopped as sharp, deep pain rippled through her torso, causing her to fall onto her back. Cursing under her breath, she turned her face and scanned the surface that she had evidently been placed upon – it was a large, wooden desk. A nice one, at that. So, this was an office.

Allowing her eyes to sink down towards the source of the pain that was radiating throughout her impaired form, Amelia found that the shirt that she had been wearing had been cut open and that the thin handle of the knife was still protruding from her abdomen.

"Fuck," She croaked, raising her trembling hands and hovering them over the wound, resisting the urge to remove the object from it's place.

"Ohhh, yikes," A familiar, boyish voice called to her as a figure sprung up from near the fireplace, "You weren't supposed to wake up yet, doll."

"What?" The girl breathed, squinting her eyes as the man approached.

His white skin was offset by a pile of disheveled, orange hair, a set of striking green eyes, and full, pink lips that spread across his handsome face in a forced, shallow grin.

 _Jerome_.

"Would just be better for everybody if you'd stayed passed out for this next part, ya know?"

Amelia shook her head softly.

"What? No...whe-where are we?"

"Oh, right – never been in here before, have ya?" He mused, an inappropriate lightness to his tone, "This is Theo's office. The others are outside with Abbie."

An aggravated sigh pushed itself from the girl's lips. The mere mention of her wife's name set her on edge, her jaw clenching uncomfortably.

"Is she alive?" She inquired, her voice hushed.

"Eh, unfortunately. She still had a pulse last I knew, anyways."

Amelia made a small, disappointed sound of acknowledgment before allowing her head to fall back, cringing as her skull thumped heavily against the hard surface of the desk. Drawing in as much air as she could without incurring more discomfort from her wound, she exhaled slowly, listening to the quivering way in which it came out – she also picked up on the shuffling of the boys feet as he moved leisurely across the room, coming to stand at her side. Glancing up at Jerome, she watched as his eyes roamed across her tattered frame, his expression rather stoic before he ultimately met her gaze.

"Hate to state the obvious but, uh," He started, his voice low and rough as he raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck, "You know that's gonna have to come out, right?"

The girl gently nodded her head.

"I know it does...but please, for the love of God, not here -"

"Amelia -"

"No. Jerome, I'm serious. This type of wound requires professional medical attention – we can't take care of it here. We don't have the means -"

"Sure we do -"

"No we fucking don't," She bit, gritting her teeth as a sharp twinge suddenly jolted through her, "Please, just...drop me off near a hospital or something. Somewhere where they can handle something like this."

The ginger shook his head.

"No can do, princess. See, the rest of us kinda already had a chat about what to do with ya and while that mighta come up for a sec, we decided against it. Obviously - because ya know... what with you and your record with turnin' tail on people and narkin' to the cops -"

"I won't," Amelia promised.

"But you _have_. You've done it before and you did it to someone you claimed to love, so why **wouldn't** you do it to someone you hate? The second you step inside of any hospital and they realize who you are, there are gonna be all sorts of cops all over the place and they're all gonna wanna talk to little ol' _you_."

"I won't," She repeated, her voice broken and weak.

"You'll have to excuse our reluctance to believe you, all things considered -"

"Jerome -"

"Decisions final, doll," He asserted grimly as he leaned in, lowering his face to hover just above hers.

Craning his body over the woman, Jerome's eyes fluttered across her face for a moment before she felt his fingers coil around the grip of the switchblade. Raising her hands up, she mustered what little strength she had to grasp at him, though this pathetic attempt to stop him only seemed to amuse the lunatic.

"Please, Jerome, don't," She whimpered.

An apologetic look crossed his features for a split second as her words reached him before the tiniest smile formed on his lips. Closing what little distance there was between them, the boy pressed a quick, soft kiss to the tip of Amelia's nose before resting his forehead against hers.

"Sorry, sweetheart," He rasped before tightening his hold on the blade and pulling it from her body, causing her to cry out beneath him.

Tears streamed from the corners of the girl's eyes, forming hot trails down the sides of her face as she felt the warmth of her own blood pooling on top of her skin. She did not look – she couldn't, for she knew that if she did, she would certainly pass out, although she reasoned that that was an inevitability regardless; still, she felt compelled to fight against it. Noticing her distress, Jerome gently brushed his hand through her hair as he fished a small rag out from his back pocket.

"Shhh, I know, I know," He cooed as he pressed the fabric to her wound, applying pressure and earning a pained yelp from the woman, "I've been there – trust me, I know it sucks. Just try to relax."

Slowly straightening himself out, he placed his hand over hers, carefully taking hold of it and raising it to take his place on top of the rag.

"Hold on to that for me, will ya?"

He did not wait for her to respond, opting instead to leave her to it and turn away, returning to the fireplace. He tilted his head, watching intently as he stared into the flames before crouching down and cautiously pulling something from the fire. Amelia lifted her head as best she could, observing him as he raised to his full height and began to approach her once more. To her horror, she found that he carried in his hand a large knife, it's blade red-hot from being exposed to the heat of the flames – immediately sensing his intentions, she struggled to find the words to articulate how vehemently opposed to his solution she was.

"Fuck, Jerome. No. No, no, no. Please. Let's get a needle and thread," She argued, her voice coarse.

"Yeahhhh, sorry, toots – these people don't exactly strike me as bein' the crafty type," He sneered as he came to a stop beside her.

"Please, Jerome," She begged, "You do that and I'll die."

The boy scoffed.

"And you'll die if I don't. Quite the pickle, isn't it?"

The girl continued to make heartfelt pleas to the man as his dark eyes peered down at her through the small slits of his lids before he reached out and clasped a large hand over her mouth, muffling her.

"You can thank me later," He said, before harshly pressing the searing hot blade against Amelia's wound, creating a sickening hissing sound as it came into contact with her skin.

An almost animalistic scream tore from the woman's throat, though thankfully, it was short lived as her body went limp and she once again slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! So, I know this one is short, but idk...I just wanted to do this particular bit all by itself, for a couple of reasons but yeah - I liked the idea of it just being the two of them and Jerome kind of teetering between being his usual cruel self and providing care for this woman, although she was clearly quite opposed to it. Amelia, being someone who works in the medical field, recognizes that she is badly wounded and tries to convince Jerome to allow her to seek proper care, but of course that does not happen...and so Jerome, in spite of having limited knowledge when it comes to wound care, does the best he can with what he** _ **does**_ **know (I.E. He pulls out the knife and very crudely cauterizes her injury). So yeah, our girl is still hangin' in there (and unfortunately, so is her wife), and even in spite of the fact that this was not altogether a very pleasant scene between Jerome and Amelia, there was almost a little bit of something akin sweetness there – I mean, nose kisses, ya'll. They're kind of adorable and if it had been under better circumstances, it might be entirely awe worthy...but idk, it felt right to me for him to do something like that for her in her current situation. I worry that my take on Jerome comes across sometimes as being like super fluffy, and while I certainly do not write him as dark as some authors portray him, I'm not really aiming for super fluffy Jerome either – I'm striving for a kind of balance, I guess, and I apologize if my struggle has been super evident. I'm aiming for "Evil, but human", I suppose would be the best way to put it...Idk. Anyways, thank you so much to all of you who sent me some stuff – it seems the general response to the last chapter was pretty unanimously "Omg", and I'm so pumped that you guys liked it! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me, I really appreciate it! As always, thank you for reading and I apologize for any errors I may have missed, and if you would be so kind, _*Reviews/Feedback Would Be Fantastic*_ – I've said it before and I'll say it again: you guys give me lifeeee! ^~^ **


	25. Part 1 Chapter 25

_All there was, was darkness. A still and impenetrable emptiness as far as her eyes could see. It stretched on and on - like a pitch black cloud - in every single direction, swallowing anything and everything that it could possibly touch. She could see nothing but the ground beneath her feet – a cold, dark gray stone that gave no indication of time nor place – and yet, she found that this place felt oddly familiar to her. Raising her sapphire-colored eyes, she searched the void that surrounded her with a feeling deep in her gut that something...something was coming. Something bad. There was a nagging voice in the back of her head that spoke to her, telling her that she had been there before, insisting that she remember, but Amelia found that she simply couldn't recall what had tied her to this place or the reason for her feelings of dread._

 _Raising her arm upwards, she roughly pushed a hand through her blonde hair -_

 _Wait... **blonde**?_

 _But, it had been ages since...-_

 _Without warning, the eerie sound of a phone ringing split through the heavy air of silence, startling the girl and pulling her away from her thoughts._

 _It was close, Amelia figured – incredibly close._

 _Reaching down, she began to dig through her pockets, finding concealed within one of them a black flip-phone. She studied it for a moment before reading the name upon the small screen at it's front -_

 _"Warren," it said._

 _A short, pained sigh pushed past Amelia's lips as she read the screen over and over again, her chest feeling as though it had caved in, her stomach tying itself into knots – she lovingly stroked her thumb across the screen, just staring at his name...And that was when she came to the sudden realization of where she was, and her eyes began to burn._

 _"_ No. No, no, no, no, no, _" She repeated the word almost like a chant that would ward away the terrible ringing that beckoned for her, her voice breaking and becoming practically inaudible as she struggled to keep herself from falling apart completely._

 _Pulling her arm back, she hurled the phone away from her – casting it out into the void before crumbling to the ground. Bringing her legs to her chest, the girl pressed her face against her knees as she wrapped her arms around herself, sobbing. The ringing persisted, though it was not quite as loud as it was before. Still, the sound of it vexed her._

 _"_ Stop _," She croaked, "_ Please, just stop... _"_

 _The sound was relentless, and before long it grew louder._

 _Lifting her head, Amelia turned her gaze to scan the ground at her side, dismayed to find that somehow the phone now rested there, just inches from where she sat._

 _"_ Fuck _," She sniffled, running a hand roughly down her face before reaching out, almost angrily, and snatching the device from it's place._

 _Taking a deep breath, the girl flipped the phone open and cautiously raised it to her ear._

 _"Amelia?! Amelia, are you there?!" The voice of a little boy called desperately from the other end._

 _Slapping her hand over her mouth, her chest heaved as tears rolled down her face –_

 _"His voice," She thought, "Oh my god – his **voice**. He's so small. I remember when he was that small..." _

_"_ Warren _," She choked out, "_ Warren...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I love you. I love you so much. Please...I'm so sorry. _"_

 _"It's dad – he's not waking up! I've tried everything – he won't wake up!"_

 _"_ I know _," Amelia breathed, closing her eyes as she listened to the frantic boy on the other end of the line, "_ I know. I'm sorry. _"_

 _"Please hurry," The boy pleaded, his small voice quaking, "Please, Amie – I'm scared!"_

 _A sob burst forth from the girl's chest, her heart breaking apart piece by piece as she listened to his pleas._

 _"_ Warren..., _" She whispered, trailing off as he continued to cry out for her._

 _"No,no – Amelia! Amelia, please! Don't hang up – please, I'm so scared! Amelia!"_

 _The girl continued to apologize over and over again, repeating his name as he ceaselessly called out for her, his voice gradually distorting and becoming deeper until it became that of someone else entirely..._

"Amelia!" Jerome barked, kicking the bed and watching as the woman's eye's flew open in an instant.

He made a small sound of surprise – that had been the most response anybody had managed to get from her in days, though it were not as if many others had tried, save for himself. Running his eyes across her form, the boy pulled his lips together tightly – she looked a bit worse for wear, and he wasn't entirely sure that she was headed in the right direction, either.

With a visibly great amount of effort, Amelia raised her head up to look at him, meeting his gaze for only a moment before allowing herself to fall back against the pillow.

"How long've I been asleep?" She inquired, her voice distant.

Moving around to the side of the bed, Jerome pushed a hand through his wet, messy hair before he spoke, readjusting the towel around his waist as he went.

"Been a few days," He explained, pulling open a drawer of the dresser in front of him, "Thought for sure you were a goner."

She scoffed lightly at his words.

"Wouldn't rule that out quite yet," She muttered, hearing the sound of his towel as it hit the floor.

She allowed her gaze to shift towards the source of the noise, watching as Jerome fiddled with the elastic waistband of the boxers that he had just pulled on before he turned towards her, having felt her eyes upon him. He gave her a once over, a smirk pulling at one side of his face.

"Pervert," He teased.

"Eat shit," She groaned, smoothing her hand up her body to rest just beneath her wound. Someone had bandaged it and therefore she could not see what it looked like, but she reasoned that if it _looked_ as bad as it _felt_ , that she was certainly in trouble.

Shifting her gaze upwards, Amelia noticed that there was a ceiling fan lazily spinning above her, which struck her as odd, as her room did not have such a fixture. Blinking her eyes a few times, she came to the sudden realization that they were not in _her_ room, but rather Jerome's – letting out a tiny sigh as she felt the cool air waft against her skin, she wondered why on Earth the boy had bothered to turn it on the first place. His room felt rather chilly to her. Feeling the edge of the mattress sink down beneath the man's weight as he took a seat beside her, Amelia returned her attention to him.

"You look like shit, sweetheart," He murmured, brushing away a piece of hair that had matted itself to her forehead.

"Thanks, asshole."

"Don't mention it," He grinned.

Amelia opened her mouth to spit an insult back his way, but was stopped, gritting her teeth together, as the hot, pulsating sensations emanating from her injury seemed to increase intensely for a second. Jerome quickly glanced down towards the wound, bobbing his head softly in understanding.

"Yeah, I imagine that still smarts a bit, don't it?"

"Yeah, kinda," Amelia grunted, attempting to shift herself into a more comfortable position, "Does it feel cold in here to you?"

A bewildered look crossed the boys face.

"You lost your mind, doll? It's hotter than Hades in here."

"I'm cold."

"Ah, well...no, you're _not_. You're sweatin' all over my shit, if we're bein' honest. Was gonna be a gentleman and not say anythin' but - ya know - you asked."

The girl stared up at him for a minute, thinking her next words over very carefully.

"Okay...but I _feel_ cold," She said quietly.

Jerome looked away, shaking his head lightly in frustration. What kind of mess had he gotten himself into? That altercation that the two women had had would have been an easy and convenient way for him to be rid of the redhead, who had begun to bother him, though admittedly it was more his own feelings towards her that irked him rather than the girl herself. He was intrigued by her, sure, and he sensed that there was a strange sort of unspoken understanding between the two of them, but it was more the incessant compulsion that he felt to... _protect_ her that was the most unsettling to him. Why should he care to help her at all? They'd practically just met - they hardly knew each other but yet, there was something so... _familiar_ about her; not in the way that they had crossed paths before but rather in a way that Jerome couldn't entirely put into words. It was odd and it made the boy extremely uncomfortable to ponder.

Returning his attention to the woman in his bed, Jerome lifted his hand, resting the back of it against her forehead before pulling it back sharply.

"Fuck," He muttered, "You're burnin' up."

Amelia nodded slowly.

"Was worried 'bout that," She cringed,"When's the last time you looked at my wound?"

"I dunno," The boy shrugged, "A day ago, maybe."

"How'd it look?

"Whaddya mean 'how'd it look'? It looked bad."

"Bad as in 'Ow, that looks like it hurts' bad or bad as in 'infected' bad?" She questioned.

"I dunno – bad as in bad! I'm not exactly an expert, here, doll."

"What color was it?"

"Uh, red?" He answered flatly.

"How red?"

"Pretty red – look, let's just cut to the chase here, shall we? What's with all the questions?"

Amelia sighed deeply.

"I think I have an infection," She stated.

The boy rolled his eyes.

"Oh boy, here we go."

"I'm serious, Jerome. I need medicine."

"Sounds like a _you_ problem, if ya ask me."

"Look," She continued, "I know that you don't care about me, per-say, and I know that you find all of this real fuckin' funny – I mean, I got stabbed and you **laughed** – but...and I don't know why...for whatever reason, you didn't let me die when you easily could have, and I can't imagine that you would save my life – **again** – just to let an infection take me."

Jerome's eyes flitted across Amelia's form, stopping to soak in her beautiful face as his expression hardened. He considered correcting her, as it had been the very moment that he had witnessed the blade piercing her skin that he had _stopped_ laughing, but he ultimately decided to keep that to himself.

"I'm a pretty busy guy, ya know – got a lot to prep for...but you make a good point. I'll see if I can't pencil somethin' in for ya."

Leaning forward, he reached out and pulled the drawer to his bedside table open, producing a pocket-sized notebook and pen, and - somewhat brashly - tossed them to Amelia.

"Write down whatever it is that you need me to grab, and I'll see what I can do, okay?"

The girl wasted no time jotting down some items onto the paper and handing it carefully back to the lunatic beside her.

"Thank you," She offered weakly.

"Shut up," He murmured, quickly scanning the notebook before setting it down beside him.

With a low huff, Jerome made to push himself from the mattress, but was stopped when he felt her small hand grasp his arm, tugging him back towards her. He cocked his head back, his eyes falling upon the woman as he leaned in slightly, as she had gestured for him to do. Reaching out, Amelia gently took Jerome's face in her hand, running her thumb softly across his cheek as she locked eyes with him. He cringed at the contact, despising the tight, uncomfortable feeling that it brought to his chest, though he allowed her to do it nevertheless.

"If you do this for me," She began, her voice hardly more than a whisper, "Please. Don't kill anybody."

The boy paused for a bit, his face scrunching as he considered her request.

"I'll see what I can do..."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, there! So...I hope that that dream sequence in the beginning didn't throw anybody off too much – I thought that it might be a neat way to introduce a little bit more of Amelia's backstory without having it come up as a flashback type of sequence or just stated in dialogue or something like that. I also just really liked the mental image that I had for it in my head and I hope that I was able to communicate it in a way that you could also visualize and get a sense for the overwhelming sadness that Amelia felt in that scene. Amelia has a fistful of regrets that she's collected throughout her life, as we all do, but there are two really, really big ones and this relates to perhaps the worst of those two, as we'll learn somewhere down the line. We also see in this update that Jerome's kind of struggling a bit, as he has been, with the feelings that Amelia has stirred up in him – he has reasoned in the past that his actions and everything are more of a selfish nature, that he doesn't want anything to happen to her because he's simply not thru with her yet, and here we see him kinda doing the same thing, except that he's not explicitly trying to excuse his feelings quite so much. They're there. He's not sure what _they_ are, but he knows he doesn't like it. Though we are now on Chapter 25, their time together has still been quite brief, so it's not like they're experiencing love or anything quite like that, as I am a firm believer that that kind of thing takes a bit more time to develop...but these two certainly feel a kind of kinship, (as they should) I imagine... even in spite of their glaring differences. Both of them find something kind of bizarrely familiar about the other, and as is stated in the chapter, it's not as though they had ever met or crossed paths before, but it's something weird and of an entirely different nature altogether. Anyways, I dunno – I'll be done rambling for now. Thank you for reading and thank you A THOUSAND TIMES to those of you who have sent me something – my heart is so full right now after having read your messages. Thank you all so much – I mean it – I love writing...it's oddly therapeutic, in a way...but to know that others have read and honestly enjoyed what you have done is an incredibly exciting, heart-warming feeling. It's awesome. Anyways, I apologize for any errors I may have missed and as always, if you feel up for it, * _I'd love to hear from you!*_**


	26. Part 1 Chapter 26

**Chapter Warning: Depictions of Violence/Gore**

* * *

Jerome strolled down the sidewalk, taking care to avoid the more worn down portions where bits of cement had become splintered and broken off, allowing for dirt and weeds to rise up through the cracks in the way that mother nature tended to in it's never-ending attempt to reclaim the land. It was quite befitting for this part of the city to have such ramshackle structures, as it had undoubtedly seen much, much better days than these; the neighborhood was - for all intents and purposes – derelict, the majority of the buildings having been intended for commercial use for businesses that had long since relocated or failed. Coming to a stop at the corner, the boy looked out over the street, beyond the dilapidated gas station that had once operated on the other side and took in the sight of the sun as it began to dip into the waterline of the river that split the city – one hand was nestled into the warmth and comfort of his sweatshirt as the other raised a half-smoked cigarette to his lips. Sucking in as much of the burning, bitter substance as his lungs could handle, he then slowly released a wispy stream of gray from the corner of his mouth as he pulled his hand from his pocket and glanced at the watch that sat wrapped around his wrist – it was getting close to eight o'clock in the evening, which meant that most pharmacies in the area would be closed up for the night. That was a good thing, as he had reasoned that the only way that he would be able to do what Amelia had asked of him and not wind up killing somebody in the process was to wait until there simply wasn't anybody there to kill.

Craning his neck to the left, Jerome took notice of the old neon sign that jutted out from one of the buildings approximately half a block away – " _DRUGS_ " it read, in big, red letters that were trying their hardest to light up, though they only succeeded in the occasional flicker. The boy peered over his shoulder, scanning the area as though he were making sure that nobody was watching him – nobody was, of course, as there was literally no one around save for himself and a sleeping homeless man a few blocks back. Turning, he approached the store, reaching it in a few long strides before letting out a frustrated groan as he came to a stop in front of it – a deep frown formed on his face as he rolled his shoulder. Upon closer investigation, Jerome found that the sign read " _Bryden's Drugs & Liquor Shoppe_", and they were, _**annoyingly**_ , still open for business.

Jerome paused, reasoning that he hadn't explicitly told Amelia that he would not kill anybody, only that he would see what he could do and hey – at least he'd tried, right? Besides, he silently reminded himself, it didn't really fucking matter what she wanted; he was going out of his way – _**AGAIN**_ – to help her and if she had any sense at all, she'd know to shut up and be grateful.

Climbing to the top of the small stoop that lead to the thick, foggy glass door of the establishment, Jerome tilted his head, peeking inside so as to get an idea as to how many people were there before pushing against the metal bar and stepping into the shop. It was, unsurprisingly, empty – the only inhabitant being an older gentleman who sat behind the front counter, staring at a tiny black and white television that had been situated in the corner. Jerome turned and examined the door, quickly locating the deadbolt and flipping it into the locked position before stepping forward and approaching the counter, his hand wrapping tightly around the gun concealed at his side.

Upon noticing the boy, the old man hastily pushed himself to his feet as he straightened his white coat - looking as though he had been startled by his presence.

"Hi there," He greeted warmly, his voice was deep and calm, almost tired "What can I do for you?"

"Uhhh, need to pick up a few things for a friend," Jerome replied, digging a hand into his back pocket and producing the list that Amelia had made out for him.

"Well, I might be able to help with that. What kind of things are you looking for?"

Jerome simply handed the man the crumpled up piece of paper, watching his reaction closely as his aged hands straightened it out and he took in what had been written. Flicking his eyes between the hooded figure before him and the list in his hand, a concerned expression crossed the gentleman's face.

"Forgive me for prying but these are not typically the kinds of things someone coming in off of the street asks for. The pain meds, maybe...but you've got some pretty strong antibiotics on here too."

"...And?" Jerome asked, a gnawing feeling beginning to grow within him as his thumb rubbed over the textured grip of his weapon.

"It's just that...hell, I won't dance around it – is somebody hurt, son?"

"You're the professional here, ain'tcha? You tell me – do people in good health usually come 'round here lookin' for that kinda stuff?"

The man sighed, but seemed otherwise unfazed by the boy's snarky remark.

"Well, I hate to say it but, the majority of the items on this list require a prescription from a Doctor, and I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't urge you to take this friend of yours in, where they can be properly assessed and treated for...whatever it is that has happened to them," He answered apologetically as he placed the piece of paper on the counter and gently slid it back towards Jerome.

The ginger eyed the parchment, though he did not move to take it.

"I get that," He nodded, "I do but, uhh, ya see...that's really not an option."

"Look, I know that medical bills are outrageous these days and I understand your reluctance but ultimately, you have to do what you have to do. And besides, there are plenty of programs out there to help people pay for these expenses so -"

"Yeah, it ain't like that."

"Then what **is** it like, son?" The old man questioned softly.

A growl of annoyance blew past Jerome's lips as he pulled the gun from his side, pointing it at the man's belly while he tore his hood back and revealed his face. Feeling his heart quicken with excitement, he readjusted his grip and barely fought back a grin as he watched the color drain from the pharmacist's face.

" _'What_ _ **is**_ _it like?'_ Hmmm, well, that is a **hell** of a question," The psychopath started, quickly glancing off to the side before returning his gaze to the frightened man before him, "I 'spose to make a long story short ya could just say that I met a girl – I mean, ain't that always the problem? A pretty, young thing catches your attention and before you know it, everything's _all_ outta sorts."

Jerome stepped forward and climbed up on top of the counter, taking a seat and allowing his legs to dangle off of the edge in front of him – the man remained silent, but backed away so as to maintain some space inbetween himself and the maniac. The boy observed him and chuckled lowly as he basked in his terror. He hadn't even done anything yet.

"Ya see, uhhh," Jerome continued, peering down at the guy's name-tag, " _Max_ – Can I call ya Max?"

The man quickly bobbed his head, his eyes darting between the kid's face and the gun in his hand.

"Good. 'Cause ya see, Max...I met a girl. A cute one, too - she's married, of course - but, uhm, one thing led to another and well...we fucked. Her wife found out, though, which was kinda amusing at first but then the bitch went all crazy and stabbed her. Right in front of me – with my own fucking knife, no less. Anyways, I did what I could to stop the bleeding or whatever, but now she's got this fever and she looks like hell, so I'm gonna need you to step into the back and grab me what's on that piece of paper or else I'm gonna be paintin' the walls in here with your insides. Understand?"

Max raised his trembling hands and nodded.

"There...there'll be no need for that, son. Really. Let me, uh, let me go get those things for you. I'll be right back," He stammered before moving cautiously towards the aisles of medicine off in the distance, reluctant to turn away from the boy.

Jerome held his gaze, his face flat and unamused.

"Ya got 'til the count of ten, old man, so I'd step it up if I were you – ya really don't want me to have to come back there and get ya."

With those words, Max nodded and hastily moved towards the back, the sound of bottles being carelessly shoved to the side as he searched for the proper items echoed off the walls.

"One...two...three...," Jerome counted aloud, turning slightly and fidgeting with the scanning device of the cash register for a moment before losing interest, "Four, five, six, seven!"

He fired off the last four numbers rapidly, earning an audible sound of distress from the man, followed by a loud crashing sound. The redhead cackled from his place on the counter, grinning from ear to ear as Max emerged from the back with a small bag, which he eagerly handed over to Jerome.

"Everythin' in there?" The madman grumbled, tilting his head slightly as he peaked at the bag's contents.

"Yes. Everything's there."

"Ya wouldn't lie to me, would ya, Max?"

"No, no. Everything that was on that list is there, I promise. Now please, just...just go," The man pleaded.

"You're kickin' me out? Aw – and here I thought we were havin' fun."

"Please. I've given you what you've asked for. This doesn't have to go any further. I won't report anything, just...please."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Jerome sighed, rolling his eye's dramatically, "But uh, just one more thing."

"What's that?" Max asked.

Without warning, Jerome raised his weapon, pressing the barrel between the man's eyes and mercilessly pulling the trigger – he watched with morbid joyfulness as the bright, fresh blood and bits of brain matter splattered across the wall behind where the man had once stood.

"Nothin' personal, buddy," The boy mumbled, giggling a small amount as he hopped down from the counter and stepped over the old man's corpse.

And it really wasn't personal, at least not in the way that the man had brought it on himself, because truly, he hadn't. Sure, Jerome had enjoyed toying with him and watching the fear and surprise cross his face in the seconds before he had pulled the trigger, but he had gotten the distinct impression that Max had probably been a decent enough guy, though Jerome cruelly considered how that had done nothing for him in the end.

Strolling back towards the front of the store, the boy stopped only to grab a bottle of water out of the cooler, taking a look back at the puddle of blood that had slowly begun to spread across the linoleum before he unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped out into the night.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! So, uhm, surprise, surprise – Jerome killed somebody. Not really a shocker, I know, and I might have had a bit more fun writing this chapter than I should have, but I do love writing Jerome when he's being an evil shit, even if I'm not so great at it. I'm trying, though – an effort is being made, I promise. I'll freakin' get there =P. Anyways, this chapter, ideally, is kind of supposed to give a little insight into what's goin' on in Jerome's head in regards to Amelia – we see that he's acknowledging that there's something there, and we also see that he's actually almost...I dunno, angry, about it, too, as it's got him a little fucked up. I imagine that Jerome would perceive any kind of real...attachment type of feelings that he might be developing as being deeply, deeply disconcerting and be vehemently opposed to them as all they would do, in his opinion, is distract him and stir up trouble where he doesn't want it. And so, I mean, while he does try to put himself in a situation where he can uphold what Amelia had asked of him and NOT kill anybody, the moment he is given the opportunity to kill the man or leave, he opts to kill the man...almost to spite Amelia, even. Like, I'll probably touch more on it a little bit in the future, but make no mistake that what he did to Max was definitely inspired by this nagging feeling that Jerome is experiencing, like this need to prove that Amelia does not have a hold over him and that he's still his own person. I dunno, boy's got some conflict happening inside him is really the point I'm making, I guess. Moving on though, we're getting towards the end here – of part one anyway, I have a whole slew of idea's for a part two that I'm currently working on sorting through and I'm super, super excited to get there. Shit's gonna get interesting, is all I'm sayin' – well, hopefully, anyways, guess you guys will be the judge of that when we get there. Anyways, as always, thank you for reading and I apologize for any errors I may have missed. Also a huge thank you to everyone who has sent in _Reviews/Feedback_ – you guys really know how to pick me back up when I can't find the motivation to write or do shit, so thank you so much for your kind words. I really, really appreciate you guys! **


	27. Part 1 Chapter 27

It was quiet. So quiet that the air practically hummed in it's stillness as he watched her take in a shallow breath from the foot of the bed. She was asleep – or maybe just unconscious – he couldn't quite tell the difference with her, though he figured that he needed to find a way to wake her regardless. Her skin was colorless and oiled with a layer of sweat, a pained expression etched across her face as she turned her head, burrowing it into the soft pillow beside her. He observed her, allowing his eyes to flit over her petite frame before fixing on her face as he recognized that something within him felt kind of...off, though he couldn't quite place his finger on what it was. Surely, he didn't feel _**bad**_ for slaying the old man at the pharmacy, but he could not deny that the rush that it had given him had been strangely diminished in comparison to the other lives that he had taken – in fact, he found that it had virtually dissipated completely by the time that he had reached the penthouse, whereas in the past he could have easily coasted on that high for at least a couple of hours...

A muffled whine emanated from the woman on the mattress, pulling Jerome out of his head as he returned his full attention to her – her face scrunched, she rolled her head to the side once more.

"Warren," She whimpered.

The boy's jaw tensed at the sound – he did not know who this man was, but she had been repeating his name over and over again while she slept. Every single night, she had called out for this "Warren" and while Jerome was interested in finding out who this person was, hearing her say another man's name grated on him in a way that he was unfamiliar with. It filled him with a bizarre sense of rage that he could not explain and made him very uncomfortable.

"Warren, please," She mumbled.

An irritated growl burst forth from Jerome's throat as he reached out and batted harshly at her feet in an attempt to rouse the girl.

"Amelia," He barked, "Wake the fuck up."

He waited a moment, but his actions seemed to have no effect. Stepping around to the side of the bed, Jerome pushed against the girl's arm with the tips of his fingers, jostling her softly as he searched her face for any indication that she was beginning to stir. Pulling his hand away, he rubbed his fingers against his palm, noting that the woman felt like a furnace beneath his touch.

Still though, she displayed no signs of cognizance.

Shaking his head lightly, Jerome turned and stalked out of the bedroom, muttering to himself as he headed down the hall and into the bathroom where he flicked on the overhead light and made a bee-line towards the bathtub. Turning the faucet on, he held his hand out beneath the pouring water for a moment to ensure it's frigid temperature before dropping the plug into the drain. Rising to his full height, the boy walked over to the counter and rakishly tossed the bag that Max had given him onto its surface before heading back to his room.

As he had expected, the girl had not moved – her eyes remained pressed shut, her forehead wrinkled in discomfort as her small body twisted softly beneath the blankets. Approaching her quietly, Jerome eased his arms beneath her sleeping form and carefully scooped her up, holding her against his chest as he clumsily struggled to reposition her so that her head rested against his shoulder rather than leaving it to hang in the air unsupported. Upon achieving this goal, Jerome heard the girl quietly mumbling under her breath; he listened closely, but found that whatever she was trying to say - if she was indeed trying to say _anything_ \- it was coming out jumbled beyond recognition. He simply watched her for a short while, letting out a short snort of laughter as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck – the scent of milk and honey quickly filled his nose as the residual fragrance of her shampoo wafted from her sweat dampened hair. It was a pleasant aroma and though Jerome admittedly felt a small inclination to bury his face in her tresses, he managed to resist - his irritation with her and the whole situation winning out over whatever minute soft spot that he had begun to develop for her.

Crossing the threshold into the bathroom, Jerome stepped across the tiled floor until he once again stood at the edge of the tub – it had filled a respectable amount in his absence, and though the boy thought about just dumping the woman into the water, he reconsidered. He had a knack for cruelty, certainly, but really – what fun was there to be had in tormenting someone who was so completely and utterly defenseless? Besides, she hadn't really done anything to merit such treatment -

 **Nope**.

Jerome mentally reprimanded himself. He did not want to go down that line of thought – it was disconcerting and he reasoned that he ought to shut that kind of shit down immediately as he delicately knelt and lowered Amelia's body into the icy water. She sprung to life instantly, gasping noisily as the stinging cold encompassed her – she thrashed about wildly, reaching out and clawing at the edge of the bath in an attempt to pull herself from the water, but found that she could not as Jerome firmly planted a single hand against her chest and held her in place.

"Hey – I know it sucks, but I'm gonna need you to work with me a little bit here," He scolded, gritting his teeth as Amelia battled against him, enclosing her small hands around his arm and sinking her nails into his skin in an effort to force him to release her, "You've still got a hell of a fever and I couldn't make you wake up, so here we are. You need to cool the fuck down and maybe, if you're good, I'll give you some of those drugs you asked for."

The girl paused, relaxing her grip on him before softly bobbing her head.

"Okay," She said, her voice somewhat gravelly, "...but the fucking ice bath was a bit unnecessary."

"Maybe," The boy shrugged, "Sure got you up quick, though, didn't it?"

The redhead giggled as he sprung to his feet and ambled over to the counter, quickly sticking his hand into the thin, paper bag that sat atop its surface and rustling through the contents within before producing a bottle of water and a small, amber-colored vial that had been filled with large, green capsules. He returned to her side and dropped a couple of the capsules into her outstretched hand, watching as she eagerly popped them into her mouth before she reached out and took the bottle of water from him. Gulping down nearly half of the bottle, Amelia's eyes drifted shut as she seemed to relax a bit, allowing her head to lull back to rest against the wall behind her.

It was quiet between them for a few minutes, the only sound being that of Jerome as he moved to take a seat on the floor, positioning himself so that he sat with his back pressed against the side of the tub, facing away from the girl. Finally, she spoke.

"Did you hurt anybody?"

He bit down on the inside of his cheek and cast his eyes downward, watching himself as he scratched at the palm of his hand – should he just tell her? I mean...why not, right? It's not like it really mattered. What was the worst that could happen if he did? She'd be mad at him - of course - but that wouldn't really be anything new, and besides, it's not like he cared how she felt. Right?

" 'Course not," He mumbled, cringing inwardly as the lie left his lips.

She turned her head and he could feel her looking at him.

"Why'd you think it took me so long?" He expanded, shifting so that he could dig his hand into his pocket, producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, "Was waitin' around forever for the pharmacies to close up so that I could go in after everyone had gone home."

The girl hummed in recognition.

"Smart," She said.

Jerome smirked as he popped a cigarette into the corner of his mouth and lit it.

"Thanks."

Again, the room fell silent save for the soft sounds of the water lapping gently against the sides of the tub and the occasional low cough from Jerome as the smoke burned at his lungs and throat. She had closed her eyes, doing what she could to find comfort in spite of how cold she was while he had fixed his eyes upon the tile before him, staring blankly ahead as he became lost in his thoughts. After a while, he spoke – she found that his voice sounded astonishingly small for someone so who had always been so boisterous, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Who is Warren?" He asked, seemingly out of nowhere, a scowl forming on his face upon hearing the girl chuckle behind him.

"Why do you wanna know?" She questioned, quirking an eyebrow as she lazily turned her head towards him.

Jerome met her gaze and blew the smoke that he had drawn into his chest out, smiling as he watched her wince and try to turn away from it as it reached her.

" 'Cause you've been callin' out his name just about every night since you got stabbed and I'm startin' to wonder if I should be jealous."

"Oooh, a jealous Jerome – God, what would that look like?"

"You don't wanna know, toots."

"You're probably right," She agreed, "And I thought I told you not to call me that."

"Mhm, and I thought I asked you a question," He replied, turning his back to her.

"Right, right...it's just that now you've got this image in my brain and I can't get rid of it."

"Well, try."

"I am! It's just...would you really?"

"...Would I really _**what**_? Finish your damn sentence, woman."

"Be jealous," She clarified, shifting beneath the water so that she could move closer to the boy, leaning her head out to get a better look at his face.

He scoffed loudly.

"Fuck no. Of course not. What kinda question is that?"

"Well, _you_ said it."

"Was only kidding, sweetheart. Don't flatter yourself," He grumbled, snubbing out the cigarette against the floor.

"I'm not," She smirked, "It's just funny seeing you get all uncomfortable and shit."

Jerome shook his head gently.

"Yeah. Hilarious."

Amelia's grin faltered as she recognized the boys apparent frustration and she wondered for a moment whether he was truly unsettled by the whole thing. It seemed ludicrous to even suggest that someone like Jerome might be capable of feeling something even remotely close to insecurity or self-doubt, but she could definitely sense that something was troubling him. Repositioning herself, the girl rested her head against Jerome's shoulder, inhaling his scent as she relished in the heat that radiated from his body.

"Well, regardless...there's no need to pout - you've got nothing to worry about," She cooed reassuringly against the crook of his neck, allowing her eyes to close once more, "Warren is my brother."

* * *

 **A/N: Hi, guys! I'm sorry this took so long to get out – I've been dealing with some stuff and honestly, I was just finding it so hard to concentrate and even just fkn form words that I had to come back to this one several times before it even looked like...anything. On the upside though, I have managed to get the outlines nailed down for the ending and everything leading up to it, which is good because that's all coming up here quick. The plan is to end it at Ch. 30, so the next few updates may take a minute because they'll probably have to be a bit longer than usual. As I have said, I've got a lot of idea's for a whole second part and some idea's maybe even for a third part if that's something you guys would be interested in reading – I'll likely write it regardless just because I'm actually pretty excited about the direction that things are going to head in, but yeah. Anyway, as always I apologize for any errors I may have missed and I thank you so much for being patient with me and for taking the time to read this story – I hope that you enjoyed this update and * _Please Feel Free to Leave Feedback/Review!*_**


	28. Part 1 Chapter 28

Amelia was restless, having spent far too long confined to one room – virtually shackled to the very bed that she found herself burrowed into still – and yet she lacked the motivation to leave it and relinquish its comfort in favor of progress. The very idea of climbing out from beneath the covers and resuming her life was daunting, especially when she considered that she was currently in the midst of what would certainly be remembered to her as being potentially one of the worst chapters of her entire life...that, of course, being under the assumption that she would somehow manage to survive it. She had, after all, taken the one person whom she had known – beyond the shadow of a doubt – cared for her and her well-being and turned that person against her; she was truly all alone now, save for whatever possible kindness the slumbering madman beside her might decide to bestow upon her. She was not sure exactly how many days had come and gone since she had awoken in the bitter cold bathwater that Jerome had dumped her in, but it seemed that every time she had opened her eyes since then, she felt just the smallest bit stronger. She could feel the fog clear from her mind, becoming brighter and more alert as time passed and her body healed itself.

Rolling onto her side, she winced just slightly as a dull ache throbbed where her wound had once been before she pulled her eyes across the ginger's unconscious form. His naked chest rose and fell as he slept, his face turned away from her as she watched him. As with the first time that she had seen him exposed in this way, she could not help but to notice the numerous scars that marred his snow-white skin – there were a few small, circular ones that dotted his arms and a similar one on his chest, which Amelia could only assume were the result of cigarette burns, and a slew of others - the causes of which being extremely difficult to determine. There was one mark in particular, however, that caught the girl's eye – it was located at his front, just a couple of inches beneath his rib cage on his left side; it was a long, somewhat jagged looking line, not entirely dissimilar to the one that she had worn before Jerome had cauterized it.

 _"Shhh, I know, I know...I've been there – trust me, I know it sucks. Just try to relax."_

His words from that night pushed to the forefront of her mind, echoing inside of her head and causing a pang to rip through Amelia's chest. He had told her that his mother had been an abusive, wretch of a woman – which was something that she understood all too well – but for one reason or another, being face to face with the evidence of what he had been through now bothered her in a way that it hadn't quite before. It caused her to consider, for a moment, how very lucky she was that she was at least spared the torment of having to carry around a physical reminder of what she had endured. Without even thinking, the girl reached out a hand and just barely grazed the tips of her fingers over the boys skin, tracing over the faded mark at his front.

"Hm?" The boy stirred, groggily lifting his head as he peeled his lids open the smallest amount, "Wazzup? Ya need somethin'?"

Amelia smiled, finding his sleepy, slurred speech kind of endearing.

"You've been stabbed before?" She asked softly.

"Mm, yeah," He huffed as he shifted his weight on the mattress and turned his head to face her, blinking a few times, "Mom got me with some glass once – no big deal. Hurt like a son of a bitch though. Why?"

The girl shrugged her shoulders.

"Just was wondering," She whispered, acting as though that revelation had not bothered her, though even Jerome - being only half awake - could sense that it had.

"Yeah...never was much of a nurturer, my mom...though I suppose she did manage to keep me alive long enough for me to – well...you know -"

"Kill her?"

"Yup," He confirmed proudly, a lazy grin sliding across his face.

"Jesus," Amelia replied with a smirk, landing a playful, half-hearted swat on his chest before turning serious, "I'm sorry you had to go through that, though...that's fucked up."

"Fucking Christ, Amelia," Jerome groaned as he rolled his eyes, "You keep sayin' shit like that and I'm gonna staple your fuckin' mouth shut. Understand?"

She bobbed her head and did what she could to suppress a laugh, again mildly surprised at how comfortable she felt with this man, even when he was actively threatening to harm her.

"Yes, sir," She said, tucking a chunk of crimson hair behind her ear, "It's just...my mom wasn't exactly the nurturing type either, but it was never, ever anything like that. I can't even fucking imagine if she had ever tried to come at me or Warren like that. I don't know what I would have done."

"Oooh, you've got mommy issues, too, do ya?" The redhead stretched out his arm and hooked it around Amelia's shoulders, pulling her in closer as he purred his next words to her with a devilish grin, "Why don'tcha tell your ol' pal Jerome all about it, huh?"

The girl shifted next to him, carefully snuggling into his side as she tilted her head up to face him. He was warm and smelled like soap. She pondered once more about how strange this boy was – a lunatic covered in blood and dirt and cackling manically in one instant, and a calm, angel-faced boy the next...though she reasoned that even in spite of his pleasant demeanor, she could still definitely sense the darkness within him.

"C'mon, doll," He encouraged softly, leaning in so that the tip of his nose grazed against hers, "What'd she do to ya?"

He did not allow her the opportunity to answer him immediately, as his lips brushed against hers in a slow, cautious manner before he pulled back and bit down on his bottom lip, awaiting her response.

Amelia swallowed thickly, allowing her eyes to flit across Jerome's face.

"She, uhm...," She paused, suddenly finding her mind clouded, "She was just... **mean** , ya know? Like, she was fine when I was younger but after Warren was born she just...she became depressed and when they tried to put her on medication, she didn't wanna take it...and so she started drinking and I mean, she'd always say that she did it because it made her feel better but I don't know about any of that 'cause all I remember is that she'd be sitting there at the table or on the couch or where ever, drunk off her ass and she'd _still_ be crying and she'd _still_ be angry. So...I dunno. Didn't seem like it ever did much good for her – definitely didn't do any good for **us**. We'd still have to hear to her scream and cry day in and day out, or watch her lay on the couch for weeks at a time in silence...we still had to listen to all of the hateful shit that she would say about us to our father...and like, after a while it just kind of became background noise to me but it bothered Warren to no end...it **never** stopped bothering Warren, like he thought it was his fault or something."

The man bobbed his head softly in acknowledgment, his lips forming a tight line as he racked his brain for an appropriate response.

"That's rough," He stated lowly, allowing his hand to trace circular patterns against her back.

"Yeah, well," She started, clearing her throat and lowering her eyes to the old burn mark on his chest, "Coulda been a lot worse."

"Mm...so, what happened to her?"

"Hm?"

"Your mom. You keep referring to her in the past tense and, I'm no detective but, if I had to guess, I'd say that the old bats uhh, not around anymore – right?"

Amelia bit down lightly at the inside of her cheek before she nodded.

"Yeah. She died. Alcohol poisoning. Choked to death on her own vomit."

She was almost startled by the boys laughter, wincing as the sound thundered throughout the room. Wiping at his eyes as he started to calm down, he turned to face her.

"Sorry, toots, but ya gotta admit...that's pretty good," He giggled.

"Yeah, very poetic."

"That can't be it, though – I mean, there's gotta be more to the story, right? Or is it just that you assume that little brother is upset with you for not having protected him better when you were children?"

Amelia sighed.

"No...I already told you once before that I kind of abandoned him and the rest of my family."

"Right," The boy nodded, "And was this before or _after_ you lost your mom?"

"After."  
"Then I don't see where the issue is there – the bitch was dead in the ground, he still had his father -"

"It's an _**issue**_ ," The girl interrupted tersely, "Because about a year or so after Valarie – our mom – died, our father nearly died in the same. Exact. Way. He didn't quite know how to cope after she was gone and even though you'd think that the fucker would have **known** better, he started drinking, too. I was at work when Warren called and told me he wouldn't wake up...so I raced over there just in time to watch the paramedics loading our father into the back of an ambulance. Warren was in there with him...he was so scared. Crying. It broke my heart to see him. I don't remember exactly what the paramedic said, but the gist of it was that he was looking pretty rough and he wasn't sure how things would shake out...then he asked if I wanted to ride along with my father and brother to the hospital. I don't remember answering or if I even did...I remember Warren screaming out for me as took off running...and that's it."

Jerome was silent for a while, staring at the wall just beyond Amelia's shoulder before he inhaled deeply and shifted his body so that his front was angled towards her. Reaching up, he caressed the side of her face, gently running the side of his thumb back and forth across her skin.

"That was pretty cold, sweetheart," He murmured, "But your pops did what he did, and that ain't on you."

"Right, but how I reacted to it? That is. That is _entirely_ on me."

"You were a kid," The ginger countered, "And you'd already lost one parent and ya thought you were gonna lose the other one the same way. I know I'm not exactly the 'go-to' guy for these kinds of things, but I imagine that that'd send just about anybody through the ringer."

"Yeah, but...I mean, I _wasn't_ a kid, Jerome. I wasn't. This was – _Christ_ – about five years ago already. I was twenty years old then. Older than _you_ are **now**. Warren, though...Warren _was_ a kid. And he needed his fucking sister, and I ran from him."

The boy shook his head lightly.

"Yeah, yeah, okay – look, ya did a real shitty thing, toots. I'll give ya that much, but it feels like you're blamin' yourself for the stupid shit that your dad did after your ma bit the dust and no matter how much you wanna sit there and pretend like that's on you, it ain't. It had nothin' to do with anything that you did - the guy made his own decision, just like your mom did and they're the ones that are responsible for the fallout of that – not you."

The corner of Amelia's lips pulled up into a tiny, half-smile as she considered his words. He could certainly talk a lot of sense for someone so...deranged. She wondered if he'd still offer her the same level of kindness if he knew the whole truth about what had happened. Certainly not, she supposed, because how could he possibly even try to make the argument that it wasn't her fault once he had all of the facts? He was right to say that it hadn't been anything that she had done, but what the boy failed to realize was that sometimes, it's what you fail to do that is the most damning. Every time you see ugliness and injustice, every time you see someone in need of help and keep your head down or turn the other cheek...those, too, are actions. They count. And for someone in need, they can make all of the difference in the world. She considered for a moment how badly the man before her could have used someone like that. Someone who cared, someone who would have refused to look the other way while he was being berated and abused. Just one person. That's all it might have taken. It hurt to think about it.

Raking her eyes over the boys face, Amelia smiled sweetly, admiring his freckles and his sleepy eyes before leaning in and kissing him. She had intended it to be a small, sentimental sort of gesture, but as her warm lips gently pressed against his, she found it incredibly difficult to pull herself away, opting instead to push further. Deepening their kiss, the girl carefully moved, repositioning herself so that she sat atop of him, one leg at either side of him as she felt his hot, wet tongue push past her lips – he smoothed his hands up her thighs before coming to rest and gripping at the curve of her hips. Pulling back just slightly, Amelia studied Jerome's face, finding his breathing to be somewhat labored and his pupils blown. The pair merely stared at one another for a moment, the man swallowing thickly as he waited to see what she would do, a grin taking form as he watched her lean forward once more to claim him, taking his inaction as permission to continue. She pushed softly against his mouth, tasting and caressing him as though he were made of the sweetest substance on Earth rather than of blood and madness – in spite of the hot, pulsating need that she could feel building inside of her, Amelia made it a point to remain gentle with him, reasoning that if anybody could stand to benefit from just the smallest amount of tenderness, it was Jerome.

Allowing her head to fall gently to the side, the girl gingerly brushed her mouth against the skin of his neck, sucking softly as her trembling hands moved downward, slipping beneath the elastic band of his boxers as she cautiously began to slide them down his body. She heard him make a small, amused sound and could practically feel him smirking above her as he shifted himself, aiding her so that she could expose him fully.

"Oooh, feeling better, are we?" He teased darkly, reaching beneath her over-sized T-shirt and gripping at the side of her panties before harshly dragging them from her body.

Using one hand to angle himself, he shifted so that he sat upright as he wrapped his other arm around Amelia's waist to steady her, surprised when she planted her small hand against his chest, signaling for him to stop. Reaching down, the girl removed his arm from around her and instead placed her hand in his, studying his face before leaning in and kissing him once more, slowly allowing herself to fall as she did. The boy rubbed himself against her, delighting in the feeling of her wet heat against him and the quiet, desperate sounds his actions elicited from her – his torment was cut short, however, as Amelia lowered herself onto him, taking him inside of her body just slightly and causing the air to catch in both of their throats.

Gripping his hand tightly, the girl worked herself onto him slowly, moving her hips and taking him in gradually, feeling her walls stretch to accommodate his girth as her mouth fell open from the overwhelming sensation. In spite of the ache the throbbed within her, she persisted, descending further and further until he was completely sheathed inside of her. Her breathing having become shallow, Amelia flicked her eyes up to Jerome, watching as his green orbs roamed over her body before coming to rest on her face. He let out a light, quivering sigh before grasping at the hem of her shirt and carefully lifting it up, removing it and leaving her form exposed to him.

"Better?" She asked playfully.

"Much," He growled, shifting forward as he dipped his head down and captured her nipple with his mouth, sucking and toying with it using his tongue.

Amelia let out a muffled cry, one hand gripping Jerome's as the other reached around to his back, her fingernails lightly digging in to the skin of his shoulder blade. Her head fell back as he continued his ministrations and she began to move on top of him, rising and falling gently and rolling her hips into him. The boy pulled back, leaning so that the back of his head rested against the wall behind them as he simply watched her pleasure herself with his body, looking at her as though it were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He did, however, notice a small flash of pain cross her features as she took him.

Tilting his head, the boy reached up and gently cupped the girl's face, drawing her attention back to him.

"Does it hurt, princess?" He breathed, his tongue darting out to whet his lips.

Biting down on her lower lip, Amelia bobbed her head a small amount.

"A little."

Jerome groaned, bringing the hand that held hers up to his face and planting a small, wet kiss onto it.

"We could try another -" He began, but the girl shook her head.

"No."

She began to work herself harder on top of him, continuing to rise and fall, soft whimpers and moans falling from her lips as she moved until ultimately, she could feel her release nearing. She took him in completely and ground herself against him, reveling in the way that he filled her as her walls seized around him and she cried out, utterly unconcerned of who might hear it.

"Ugh, fuck," The redhead murmured, feeling her tighten and cum around him.

Bringing himself forward, he once again wrapped his arm around the girl's waist to steady her as she leaned in, resting her head against his shoulder for support as he began to piston himself into her, setting a much faster, more aggressive pace than what Amelia had used with him. Allowing his eyes to drift closed, the boy continued to thrust into her mercilessly, nuzzling his face against her cheek and peppering soft kissed across her skin.

"Ah, shit," He gasped, feeling his orgasm approaching.

He tightened his hold on Amelia's hand, gritting his teeth as he felt the cold metal of her wedding ring press against his fingers. It was strange, but Jerome found that in that moment, the very presence of that ring made him furious. He didn't know why...but it did, and so, with a low, dangerous growl he harshly twisted the ring from her finger and hurled it across the room. Placing a hand at either side of the girl's head, Jerome raised her up to force her to face him – he stared into her eyes for a moment as he continued to fuck her, watching the pleasure cross her features before he captured her lips ferociously with his own – biting and sucking at her, claiming her before he felt his release hit. He cursed loudly as he felt his cock twitch inside of her, his seed gushing and filling the woman before him.

They remained in that position for a while – Amelia straddling Jerome – their foreheads pressed together as they both worked to catch their breath. Ultimately, the lunatic let out a deep breath and cleared his throat.

"Not that I ain't, uhhh... _appreciative_ or anythin' doll but, what the hell was that?" He inquired, a small laugh in his voice.

Amelia smiled, a light chuckle rumbling from her chest.

"Suppose I just wanted to say thank you, ya know?"

"Yeah? What for?"

"I dunno – not killing me? Not letting Abbie kill me? Getting me drugs and not letting me die? Guess you could take your pick at this point, so...thank you."

The boy grinned widely, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Don't mention it."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been a long time since my last update. I'm sorry about that – I recently got a new job and while I'm excited and feel like it will be a much better fit for me and open my schedule up significantly to be able to do more things (like write), it's also stirred up my anxiety a bit and caused some issues there. I'm sure I've mentioned it before in previous author notes (Can't be certain, though, as I do tend to ramble on in these things, I know), but I have Clinical Anxiety (or chronic – however you'd like to say it, I suppose) and I recently had a very, very bad panic attack and had to go to the hospital as my meds weren't working and it simply wouldn't subside no matter what I (or my friends) tried. I'm not trying to make excuses or anything, I just kind of wanted to give you guys a heads up for where I'm at and why it's taken me so long to get this to you – for those of you that care and are reading this and really enjoy this story, I'm really sorry for leaving ya hanging for so long, and so I felt like I should at least give an explanation...if that makes sense. It wasn't my intention to go like, a month, without updating and for that, again, I apologize – I hope that you liked this update and that it was at least somewhat worth the wait. As always, I apologize for any errors I may have missed while proofreading and if you would be so kind, ** _I would really, really love to hear from you guys. It makes my heart so happy.**_ Thanks again! **


	29. Part 1 Chapter 29

The evening had hardly begun, the sky having only just transitioned from the picturesque wash of oranges and pinks into the dark, starless screen above and while the building was now largely vacated – the majority of its regular inhabitants out patrolling or having gone home to their families, there was at least one man who remained. He was seated at his desk – a large, sturdy piece of furniture made out of real wood – his back hunched, his head hung low while his fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose. His sand-colored hair was usually pushed back and neatly kept, his eyes typically had a bright, alert look to them...but not this night; no, this man was tired. Exhausted, really, if one were to be completely honest. To say that it had been a rough couple of weeks would be damn near an insult – the young detective had seen more than his fair share of ugliness in this city and an untold number of cases that could only be politely described as having been a bit 'messy' but this...this shit-show that was rampaging through the city of Gotham now? It was unfathomable. It was infuriating. And terrifying. It was terrifying. A handful of good men and women had been slaughtered in the very room where he now sat in contemplation...the stench of gun powder and death clung to the air even still, serving as a sick reminder for all those who entered. Some of those people had been his friends, and Sarah...

The man drew in a deep breath, holding onto it for a few seconds before releasing it slowly through his mouth in an effort to calm his nerves. The loss of Sarah Essen had stung. Not only because he had considered her a friend, but because he knew that in a city filled with selfish pricks and crooked cops, that Sarah had been one of the good guys. She had been a truly decent human being and he believed that her intentions had always been honorable and that had she lived, she would have been one hell of a commissioner. Hell, she might have even been able to **really** help this cesspool of a city had she been given the chance, but no...any and all light that Sarah Essen had to offer the world had been viciously stamped out by that boy. The man felt his body tense, his jaw clenching tightly as the image of the young psychopath flashed behind his eyelids – he could still see his wide, snarling grin and hear the ostentatious, sinister laughter that had erupted from deep within the young man's chest the night that they had arrested him for the murder of his mother. There were very few things that could unnerve a man like Jim Gordon, and while he would never admit it out loud...that boy unsettled him in a way that he had not been able to shake. The moment that Jim had accused him of his crime and the child realized that he had been caught and no longer needed to keep up the act that he had been putting on, everything that resembled a human being seemed to melt away, revealing the monstrous face of what could only be described as the embodiment of mayhem itself. He had sincerely hoped that that night would be the last time he ever had to see Jerome Valeska, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans in mind, as he had encountered the lunatic just hours earlier. He found that the boy had murdered his father, Paul Cicero, in his apartment before both he and his partner, Harvey, were rendered unconscious by some sort of strange gas that had been released within the building, allowing the fiery-haired maniac to escape.

It was frustrating, to say the least, that the man who had slaughtered so many of his friends and colleagues had managed to slip through his fingers – in fact, it was almost as frustrating as the unremitting repudiation that he had been met with by his superiors each and every time he attempted to propose that this man, Theo Galavan, had helped to orchestrate or was, in the very least, somehow involved with the criminally insane group, though he knew that he could not fault them too much for their hesitance and skepticism, as the man clearly had powerful friends and had swiftly gained popularity throughout the city and it was not as though Jim had been able to provide any real, solid evidence to support his claims. But he just...he _**knew**_. He knew that Theo Galavan was a snake, he knew that he had some hand in all of this chaos, and he knew that there _had_ to be something, somewhere inside of that grandiose penthouse of his that would tie him to The Maniax. Unfortunately for the young detective, though, he had been given a direct order to stay away from Galavan after his last bid to convince the others of his true nature went south. Since then, he had done his best to comply with the orders that he had been given and opted to shift his primary focus towards locating Amelia Mara instead.

While the department had all but officially labeled Miss Mara as an accomplice to Valeska and his little gang of psycho's rather than considering her a hostage as they had initially, Jim found himself unable to accept that as a possibility, having met the woman years before. Though she had struck him as being a deeply troubled girl, he never once got the impression from her that she had any kind of ill-intent or that she was in any way dangerous. He believed with every fiber of his being that Miss Mara was a decent person, that she had a good heart despite the trauma that she had endured and that, timid as she may be, she was one of the good guys who would stand against the evil, cruel wretches of the world like Jerome Valeska, rather than fall into their ranks. Allowing a quiet sigh to fall from his lips, Gordon peeled his eyes open and cast them off to the side to examine the small, burgundy rucksack that rested against the surface of his desk. All of her things were still inside of that bag, which wasn't saying too much as the woman had packed rather light. Eyewitnesses had placed her at the recent massacre at Gotham City Central Park, which was what had led the others to doubt her innocence, but Jim could not fathom that she was there of her own volition – she was, after all, surrounded by a group of unhinged individuals and the possibility that she had been coerced or threatened into doing... _whatever_ it was that they had had her do was practically a foregone conclusion. And besides, if she truly were in on the whole thing...why would she have run like she had? The bag before him and the sparse contents that it held...it did not take a detective to come to the conclusion that this was the bag of someone who was frightened, someone who felt as though they **needed** to leave and do so with haste – she had forgone many things that a person might typically take with them if they were leaving for literally any other reason besides fleeing from a terrible threat...She was not apart of this. Of that, Jim was certain.

Feeling a vibration against his leg, the man straightened his back and reached a large hand inside of his pants pocket, pulling out his phone and smiling down at the small blurb that had popped up on the screen.

 _"Wish you could be here. I'll try not to stay too late. There's some leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry when you get home – please don't stick around the office all night again. You need to get some rest. I love you."_

He wished that he could be there with her, too. Lee had gone to attend some benefit for the Children's Hospital, and while admittedly that wasn't exactly his idea of a fun time, it stung that he could not attend, as he knew that he had not been giving his fiance nearly the amount of attention that she deserved from him as of late. He would have gone, but of course it was known that Theo Galavan was going to be in attendance at the benefit which, unless Gordon wanted to get his ass chewed, meant that he needed to stay far, far away from it.

Shooting another look over towards Amelia's bag, an idea began to take form in the detective's head. His hand darted out, roughly grabbing the rucksack as the man pushed himself to his feet, studying his surroundings as he plucked his coat from the back of his chair and slung it over his shoulder. He could stay away from Galavan easy enough, he figured, and seeing as the man would be preoccupied for the majority of the evening, maybe this would be a good opportunity to see about taking a look at that penthouse of his.

"Hey, Jim! Where ya goin', bud?" He heard Harvey's voice call out from behind him as he started to make his way towards the door.

"To get some rest," Jim lied, "Still feelin' a little funny from the gas. Thought some sleep might help."

"Yeah...yeah, that's probably not a bad idea. You need a ride home or somethin'? Cause I can drop ya off if you're not feelin' well."

"Thanks, Harv, but I think I'm alright."

"Okay, if you say so. Just take it easy and don't do anything stupid."

A shallow smile pulled at Gordon's lips as he offered the man a small nod.

"Right. Of course."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys, sorry again for having left ya hanging, but as I've mentioned before I've been having some issues lately with my anxiety and it's been a slow process trying to get back to a comfortable place inside of my head so I kind of have been having to step back from a number of things lately to just try to focus on myself and my mental health, but I feel like I'm starting to make some progress, so there's that! Also, I'm sorry there's no Amelia or Jerome in this chapter, and I'm not 100% sure I'm super pleased with how this update turned out because I was kind of unsure how exactly I wanted to approach it, but here we have Jim Gordon finally entering the show in a real, active kind of way rather than just being mentioned by other characters, and for that I am super excited. The next update, I promise, will not take nearly as long to be posted – I will be chipping away at it for the remainder of the week and then going over it again to make sure that it is exactly as I want it to be, or as close as I can get to that this weekend and I will be putting it up soon. Again, I apologize for the long wait and if this particular update isn't exactly stellar (I've been over it a thousand times and though it's still not exactly what I want it to be, it'll have to do because I just...can't look at it anymore, tbh lol) Anyways, I apologize for any errors I may have missed while proofreading and again I apologize for the horrifically long wait and the lack tof Amelia and/or Jerome in this update, but I do hope you were able to enjoy it regardless. The next chapter is going to be IT – at least for part one, I suppose. This next update was originally intended to be the actual ending but I've since come up with a whole slew of ideas to continue on with, so if that is something that you would like me to do, I would certainly love to hear from you. I do deeply enjoy writing but it can sometimes feel a bit like you're screaming into the wind when you get little to no feedback from your audience so that you can gauge how you guys are liking the story and the characters and everything so far and what exactly it is that you do like about what's happening or just your thoughts in general. These things are all good things to know, as a writer I'm interested to hear your thoughts, even if it's something as simple as "Hey, I like this", that's fine – it helps keep me motivated and energized and I'd definitely appreciate it. Thanks again!**


	30. Part 1 Chapter 30

_**Earlier That Day**_

 _Amelia sat, straddling Jerome's lap as she panted softly, nuzzling her face deeper into the crook of his neck and smiling at the feeling of his chest rumbling as he chuckled above her. She had no better excuse for her forwardness with him other than to say that it was a show of gratitude. An uncouth gesture, to be sure, but a gesture of gratitude nonetheless. And she meant it...she was truly thankful, though she knew in the back of her mind that her actions had not been driven by her appreciation for what the boy had done for her. Not completely, anyway. There was something_ _ **more**_ _there, something deeper and more personal that had motivated her...but it was not something that she was willing to acknowledge. Not yet...maybe not ever, for she knew that Jerome was a cruel and dangerous man who reveled in his own wickedness above all things. It was the chaos, death, and destruction that he brought down upon others that gave him life and Amelia knew that that was never going to be something that she could accept._

 _A quiet, somber sigh pushed its way past the woman's lips, drawing the attention of the fiery-haired madman, who curled the arm that he had wrapped around her waist a tad more tightly around her as he reached out with his free hand to tilt her head upward to face him._

 _"Ya alright, there, princess?"_

 _Amelia nodded, forcing a faint smile as she extended her arm up to gingerly push her dainty hand through his tousled hair._

 _"Yeah, I'm good."_

 _He quirked an eyebrow at her before leaning his face down, resting his cheek against the side of her face as he spoke against her skin._

 _"Not lyin' to me, are ya?"_

 _She giggled lightly, the vibrations of his voice tickling her flesh._

 _"No, no. I'm fine. Promise."_

 _Jerome pulled back and looked at her, his emerald gems searching her face for any indication that she was being dishonest..thankfully for her, he didn't seem to notice anything and took her at her word._

 _Parting his lips to reply to her, the door to the bedroom burst open before the words even had the chance to form on his tongue. Amelia let out a small shriek from the suddenness of the door crashing against the wall behind it and before she even realized what had happened, she found Jerome had yanked the blanket from the bed up and around her to shield her bare form from the invader._

 _"I'll assume you two are done now, yeah?"_

 _"Fuckin' Christ, Tabs! Ever heard of knockin'?" Jerome shouted as he pulled Amelia closer into his chest._

 _"I'm just gonna take that as a 'yes'. Get your things together and get dressed, Jerome. We got shit to do." With that, the woman left the room, slamming the door shut behind her._

 _The boy shook his head in frustration before softly gripping at Amelia's hips and easing her off of him._

 _"What does she mean?" Amelia questioned, clutching at the blanket that he had wrapped around her. "What're you guys doin'?"_

 _She watched as the boy pulled his boxers back on and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there for a moment, running one of his large hands through his tresses before he answered._

 _"I'll tell ya, but only if you promise not to try and talk me out of it, 'kay?"_

 _The girl hesitated, knowing full well that that was not a promise that she would likely be able to keep._

 _"Sure," She responded._

 _"I'm gonna kill my dad."_

 _"...You're not serious, right?"_

 _The man was silent._

 _"Jerome, tell me that you're fuckin' with me," She almost pleaded._

 _"Didn't I fuckin' tell you to_ _ **not**_ _do this? That was the deal, wasn't it, toots? I tell you what we're doin' and you said you wouldn't -"_

 _"I know what I said but he's your_ _ **father**_ _!"_

 _A sharp, bitter laugh erupted from the maniacs throat as her words reached him._

 _"Ohhh, yeah – like that means anything."_

 _"Jerome -"_

 _"No, no – seriously. You remember the night before the whole park thing? I came into your room to check in on ya and you started askin' me questions. Remember what I said when you asked me where I grew up?"_

 _"Yeah," Amelia admitted quietly, "And you said you grew up traveling with the circus."_

 _"Yeah. And I told you about my mother and how_ _ **wonderful**_ _she was. I also told you that my father was the psychic that traveled with us, sooo...he was_ _ **there**_ _. He was there the entire time and he knew how my mother was and he did fuckin' nothing about it. And I remember one time...it was my ninth birthday and mom and her newest fuck buddy had just finished beating the shit out of me, so I went to sit outside. I was bloody and crying and along comes Paul...he stops and he asks me 'Why are you crying, Jerome?' and so, I tell him. And do you know what he said?"_

 _Amelia shook her head and did her best to ignore the tearing feeling inside her chest._

 _"He said 'This world doesn't care about you or anybody else, Jerome. Best to learn that now'...and that was it. That was all he said."_

 _Tears stung at the girl's eyes as he finished his story. She wanted to reach out and hold him, pepper his beautiful face with kisses...but she knew better._

 _"So...are you really gonna sit there and try to talk me out of this, doll?"_

 _She swallowed hard and after a moment, she shook her head._

 _"No," She responded, her voice low and coarse._

 _"Good."_

 _Amelia watched in a kind of stunned silence as the boy dressed himself and gathered his belongings, her mind still trying to process the cruel words that Jerome's father had uttered to him – what kind of person would say something like that...especially to a child? It was incomprehensible. Eventually, the ginger finished preparing himself and came to stoop before the seated woman in his bed._

 _"Now, I know you're feelin' better, but don't go thinkin' you're hot shit or anythin' just yet, alright? You're still weak and it wouldn't be hard for Abs to finish you off if she wanted, so my advice would be to lock that damn door behind me and stay put," He explained softly, gesturing over his shoulder towards the door, "But, if you absolutely **must** leave, make sure you take this with you." _

_Reaching into his pocket, Jerome pulled out his small, black switchblade – the same one that Abbie had used to stab her – and delicately placed it into Amelia's hand._

 _"If you go out there and she comes at you...don't hesitate. Flick this son of a bitch open and plant it in her fuckin' chest, ya got it? Ain't no room for mercy or pity or any of that bullshit in here. She comes for you, you put her the fuck down. Okay?"_

 _The girl bobbed her head in response, her eyes locked upon the tiny weapon in her hand before she turned her gaze to look upon Jerome's face. She leaned in, pressing her forehead gently against his, smiling at his quiet intake of breath before planting a tender kiss against his lips._

 _"Thank you," She whispered._

 _The man chuckled lightly as they parted, combing a hand through his messy, orange locks once more._

 _"Yeah, well...," He cleared his throat, "Don't say I never did anythin' for ya."_

 _Amelia smirked._

 _"Wouldn't dream of it."_

 _"Mm, well – I'm gonna be off now. Got shit to do, people to kill. Don't wait up."_

 _She simply nodded and watched as Jerome scanned her face one last time – he looked as though he were considering something, but he quickly shook it away, offering her his signature grin and a firm pat on the shoulder instead._

* * *

Amelia had remained in Jerome's bedroom for the vast majority of the day, as he had suggested, taking the opportunity to enjoy the quiet and get some more much needed rest. As much as it pained her to admit it, she knew that he had been right in saying that regardless of how much better she was feeling, she was still healing and her body was weak. She knew how these things worked, of course, so it was not as though she needed him to tell her that, but laying around and sleeping all day had quickly lost its appeal and she found that all she wanted was simply to be somewhere else.

She smiled to herself as she smoothed the palms of her hands against the cool leather arms of the chair that she had seated herself in – a cozy, onyx-colored office chair, situated neatly in its place behind the desk of Theo Galavan – she recalled a time not so long ago where that desire was very much the same for her, although at the time somewhere else had meant something very different. 'Somewhere else' had meant out of that penthouse – hell, out of Gotham, ideally – but mostly it meant away from those people who called that place home...and while those feelings hadn't changed entirely, they had indeed changed. She still wanted out of that penthouse, out of the city if possible, and she still wanted away from those people...all except for one.

Her attachment to the copperhead had become virtually impossible for Amelia to ignore and although she despised much of what he stood for, there was some kind of bizarre magnetism that drew her to him and she found his company to be astonishingly pleasant. It was strange and frustrating, for she knew this boy to be a monster and yet when they were together...when it was just them, he just... **wasn't**.

Allowing her mind to wander, Amelia began to absently flip through items atop the desk before pulling at the drawers and scanning their contents. She was not looking for anything in particular, she was simply bored. She was hardly registering anything that she had looked at, as the contents of his desk were largely office supplies and nothing of any real interest, but then something odd caught her eye. The drawer at the bottom right of the desk was deep and largely vacant, containing a few folders, a hole punch, and a stapler, but there was something about the bottom of the drawer that struck the girl as being quite off. It seemed to her that it was a shade lighter than what she had seen in the rest of them and if she weren't mistaken, there appeared to be a piece of parchment peeking out from its edge. Tapping her fingers against the bottom of the drawer, she felt the surface give slightly.

A false bottom. Of course. Someone as openly shady as Theo Galavan _would_ have something like that in his office, wouldn't he? Amelia shook her head – Galavan was a ridiculous man. Dangerous, to be sure, but ridiculous nevertheless and not nearly as clever as he thought. Slipping her slender fingers along the bottoms edge, the girl lifted the thin slab and pulled out the contents from beneath it. There were files on each of the inmates and blueprints for Arkham Asylum as well as what appeared to be some correspondence between Theo and a man called Father Creel. The woman tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she studied the letters, trying to make sense of them before she heard a voice call out to her.

"You're not supposed to be in here, ya know."

Amelia's head snapped towards the sound of the brunette's voice, glaring as she watched her lean casually against the door frame.

"No? Well, then...guess he shouldn't have left it unlocked."

Abbie let out a small scoff as she stepped forward, her eyes falling to the papers in the redhead's lap.

"What've you got there?" She inquired lowly.

Amelia shrugged.

"Some files. Looks like Theo really did do his research on you guys after all."

"Mm...should probably put those back," Abbie suggested, a strange softness to her voice.

"Oh, fuck off, Abbie."

"I'm just tryin' to help you. He'd be mad if he knew you were in here snooping. It doesn't look good."

"You're trying to help me?" Amelia cackled, turning in the chair to face the other woman fully "You? Are you fucking serious?"

"Look, I know we've had our differences -" Abbie began.

"Our _**differences**_?! Bitch, you tried to fucking **kill** me!"

"I know, I know I did and I'm sorry," The woman apologized, casting her eyes away for a moment, "I was incredibly upset and I'm sorry that I took it out on you. You weren't the problem...it was him. I should have acted accordingly but Theo...anyways – the point is, I know how Jerome can be...he's a really good talker and he's fantastic at manipulating people and I'm sorry I allowed you to fall into that trap and that I reacted so poorly when you did."

Amelia was quiet for a moment. She almost couldn't believe that after everything that had happened and everything that she had said that Abbie would still come crawling back to her and still be so in denial of the facts of what had transpired.

"Well...that's great and everything, Abbie, but we've had this discussion and that is not how it was. You know that."

The woman balled her hands into tight fists as her spouses words reached her.

"That's _exactly_ how it was - you just haven't realized it yet. You actually think that nut job gives a fuck about you? He doesn't care about anybody but himself! You were just some sick fun for him to have while he waited for the next blood bath – that's all."

Amelia winced, surprised at how deeply her words cut into her.

"Fuck you," She hissed, "I'm not an idiot. I know how men like Jerome are, but we...we understand each other."

Abbie burst into a fit of laughter, holding her stomach as she stepped up to the edge of the desk.

"Oh yeah...yeah, you guys would, wouldn't you?" She sneered, "He hacked his mommy to pieces with a hatchet and you stabbed my father in the back twenty-six times with a kitchen knife, not to mention what you did to your mothe-"

"Fuck you!" Amelia spat as she pushed herself to her feet, "What I did, I did to protect _you_! And my mother...she did that to herself."

"Yeah, but you coulda saved her and you didn't...and is that really any better?"

The pale woman glowered at Abbie, clutching the files tightly against her chest as she reached into her pocket and coiled her fingers around Jerome's switchblade.

"Maybe not...but it doesn't matter. None of it matters. You're just pissed off that you pulled me into this fucking nightmare and that instead of falling into your arms, I found someone else."

Abigail's lips formed a line, hardening her expression after a flicker of pain had crossed her features.

"Well...yeah, maybe. But as you said, none of it matters."

Amelia narrowed her eyes at her, confusion etched upon her pretty face at the woman's implication.

"Oh, didn't get to that part in the letters, did you? Well...I won't spoil it for you but, I certainly hope you kissed your boyfriend 'goodbye'."

"What the fuc-" Amelia started, stepping around the desk towards the brunette.

"Freeze! Put your hands in the air and step out of the room!" A male voice thundered through the penthouse.

Peering out into the living room, Amelia recognized the man on the other side of the doorway, his gun pointed directly towards her and her spouse – it was Jim. Detective Jim Gordon. What the fuck was he doing here?

"Both of you! Now!" He barked.

The women did as they were told, raising their hands above their heads and stepping out into the main area of the apartment. Jim wasted no time – he snatched Abbie by the arm, wrenching both of her wrists behind her back and cuffing her before he turned his attention to Amelia.

"You okay?" He asked.

The girl nodded, watching Abbie carefully.

"I'm fine. What...what are you doing here?" She questioned, cringing internally as it occurred to her how ungrateful her words sounded.

"Lookin' for you."

"Oh."

Jim bobbed his head, his eyes scanning the small woman before him.

"What're those?" He inquired, nodding towards the stack of papers tucked under her arm.

"Files I found in Theo's desk...there's one for each of the Arkham escapees and there's some blueprints and letters -"

"Ohhh, bitch – he's gonna have you're fuckin' head," Abbie snorted, struggling slightly against her bonds.

"Shut up," Jim and Amelia spat in unison.

The young detective offered the girl a halfhearted smile.

"Well then, what do you say we go drop her off and I take a look at those, yeah?"

Amelia nodded.

"Absolutely."

* * *

Amelia shifted awkwardly in the passenger seat of Jim's car; they had, somewhat unceremoniously, dumped Abigail off at the precinct – Jim having taken her in while Amelia waited in the vehicle – and they had since parked themselves at the side of the road while the detective thumbed through the girl's findings.

"Anything you can use?" She asked after several minutes of silence.

"Yeah, I think so," He mumbled, "Still, though...you know we're gonna need you to testify if we wanna charge him and stand a fighting chance. A man like Galavan has got a lot of friends in high up places, it's not gonna be easy to nail him down."

"I know."

"So you'll testify?"

Amelia did not respond, opting instead to cast her gaze out into the night. The city looked so dreary. So cold...

"Amelia," Jim said tersely, commanding her attention.

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. She wanted to help him, but she knew that standing against Galavan would undoubtedly be extremely dangerous. At last, she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Jim's phone rang.

"Fuck," He grumbled, hitting the green 'accept' button on the screen and bringing the device to his ear, "What do you want, Harvey?"

She watched as Jim's face fell, draining of all color and becoming like stone.

"I'll be right there," He stated lowly before tossing the phone in the center console and starting the engine.

"Where are we going?" Amelia questioned softly.

Jim shot her an annoyed look.

"Did you know what they were doing tonight?"

"Who?"

"Who? You know who. The 'Maniax' – did you know?"

"No – why? What's going on?" She answered defensively.

The man let out a frustrated sigh.

"You'll see."

* * *

The scene was utter chaos – cop cars and news vans littered the streets, people were scrambling both to get near to the building and to get away from it. Jim had been summoned to a surveillance vehicle just inside of where the police had started to block the area off and in spite of his insistence that Amelia stay in the car, she had followed him. Her heart seized her in chest as she saw the image of Jerome on the screen – happy to see that he was still alive and well, though Abbie's words clawed at her and she could not help but to feel a kind of dread. She listened as Jim and Jerome bickered over the phone, as Jerome cackled and made his ridiculous demands. He certainly was something else. As soon as she saw that the ginger was about to hang up, her hand shot out and ripped the phone from Jim's hand.

"Jerome!" She practically shouted into the device.

She watched him pause through the television, looking down at the phone in his hand, a look of confusion upon his face before he turned away from the camera and raised it back to his ear.

"Yes?" He hummed, "Who is this?"

"It's Amelia."

"Ah. Well, this is certainly an...unexpected turn of events. What're you doin' here, doll?" He growled.

"Look, I don't know what's going on in there, but whatever you do...please don't let Theo near you. Don't ask me how I know, but he's got bad shit in mind for you, okay?"

"Bad shit? Like what?" The maniac giggled.

"I dunno, bad shit! I think he's gonna try to kill you or some -"

"For fucks sake, Amelia."

"Jerome, I'm serious," She asserted.

"Oh, so am I, princess. Why should I trust you? After all, you're out there with Jimbo, aren't you? You two friends now, hm?"

Amelia paused.

"It's not like that."

"Is that right?" He hissed.

"Yeah, it is. Please, trust me on this -" Before Amelia could finish what she had to say, Jim tore the phone away from her, hanging it up. He grabbed her by the arm and harshly pulled her back to the car, pushing her against the side of the vehicle as he glared down at her.

"What the fuck was that?" He questioned through gritted teeth.

Amelia ran a hand through her hair and exhaled loudly. Everything inside of her felt as though it were about to give way.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I had to warn him. He's my -"

"He's your _**what**_?"

"He saved my life – a couple of times actually!" Amelia exclaimed, "I know he's a fuckin' psychopath but that's gotta count for something!"

Jim shook his head and buried his hands deep into his coat pockets.

"Saved your life how?"

"Abbie stabbed me – Jerome sealed the wound and got me antibiotics when it got infected -," She explained nervously.

"Oh, well that explains what happened at Brydens," Jim replied dryly.

A puzzled look crossed Amelia's face.

"What do you mean?"

Jim scoffed quietly, raising his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he spoke.

"Maxwell Bryden, owner of Bydren's Drug and Liquor Shoppe was found dead in his store. He'd been shot in the head – there was no money or narcotics missing, only some -"

"Antibiotics," Amelia finished, her heart sinking into her stomach.

"Yeah."

"Son of a bitch."

The man made a small sound in agreement before gently placing his hands on the small woman's shoulders.

"Look, I gotta go. I gotta take care of this, but I need you to stay out here. Stay in the car and wait for me. If things get really bad, I want you to find Harvey Bullock, okay?"

Her mind reeling, Amelia nodded, her eyes resting on the ground as Jim turned to make his way towards the building.

"Jim," She heard herself call out to him.

He stopped, cocking his head back to look at her.

"He's a person. Remember that. Please. He's a person."

Jim bobbed his head and continued on his way without uttering a word.

* * *

It was almost humorous, how quickly things had gone south for Jerome – he had been having quite a bit of fun at the Gala, and although it perturbed him to know that Amelia had somehow wound up in the company of Jim Gordon, it was nothing that he couldn't come back from...however when it came to the point where he found Theo lunging towards him and he caught a glimpse of the metal as the spotlight glinted against Galavan's blade...well, at that point he knew he was in trouble. He knew he should have listened to her...but it was too late.

It was funny, albeit a little sad, that the very last thoughts that raced through the boys head as he laid dying upon the stage – gasping for air as his lungs filled with blood – were of those last moments that he had spent back at the penthouse...with her. With Amelia. He remembered how he had wanted to lean forward and kiss her just one more time before he walked out that door...and how he hadn't. How he had refused. Why had he been so opposed to such a simple gesture? It seemed stupid and petty now. He had wanted to do it, so why hadn't he done it? It was, strangely enough, the sole thing that the maniac regretted as his chest ceased its rise and fall and everything faded to black...

* * *

 **A/N: Okay kids, there it is! I'm not 100% happy with how this one turned out, but I kinda got to the point where I just couldn't look at it anymore, if that makes sense. I did my best, guys. I know it's a sad ending, and anyone could have predicted it having seen the show, but the story ain't done yet! There is definitely going to be a part two, but this is where I'm ending part one. I'm excited to see how the events of the Gala and all of the nonsense that will happen following will shape Amelia and everyone else for that matter. As I've stated before, I'm going to kinda be diverging from the plotline of Gotham going forward and I'm pumped to start tinkering with that. Thank you all so much for reading and a Special, HUGE thank you to those of you who have been so kind and left me nice, encouraging words – it means a lot. I hope you enjoyed this update, I apologize if you didn't, but there is a lot more to come, so...yeah! I apologize for any errors I may have missed, I hope you liked this update, and I hope you come back for part two!**


	31. Interim (Amelia)

_"Crowds gathered outside of the 74_ _th_ _District Court in Gotham City this morning, many residents bundled up as they braved the snow and the cold in order to show their support for Theodore Galavan, who stood accused of homicide, aiding and abetting the escape of several convicted criminals from Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, and harboring the fugitives at his home in Gotham City's upper east side. This group of criminals, perhaps better known as 'The Maniax', escaped from Arkham Asylum in early June of last year and went on to commit a number of heinous acts over the following weeks, including the televised murder of a number of Gotham City Policemen and women, and Commissioner, Sarah Essen. While reporters were not allowed inside of the courtroom for Mr. Galavan's trial, we have confirmed information that we have received through multiple sources that Mr. Galavan was indeed acquitted on all charges, citing the prosecutions lack of hard evidence as the primary cause for dismissal of the case against him. It seems that the attention is now shifting more towards the prosecutions star-witness, Amelia Mara, and the true extent of her involvement in these crimes. In particular, questions have been raised about her past and her connection with partner, Abigail Mara, as well as an alleged_ _ **affair**_ _with the self-proclaimed leader of the group, Jerome Valeska, who was slain valiantly by none other than Mr. Galavan after the boy, along with Barbara Kean, held a score of Gotham's most influential citizens, including Bruce Wayne, son of the late Thomas and Martha Wayne, hostage at a Gala event to benefit the Gotham City Children's Hospital. Ms. Mara was believed to have been kidnapped after having been brought in for questioning, though it appears that she may have been a more willing accomplice than originally thought – Still, police officials are declining to make any official statement at this time and at this hour, it appears that no warrants have been issued for Ms. Mara's arrest. We will follow this story and update as it unfolds."_

"What the actual fuck?!" Amelia bellowed, smashing the circular power button on the remote with the pad of her thumb before violently whipping it towards the screen.

This couldn't be fucking happening. It just couldn't. They had gathered all kinds of evidence against that son of a bitch and all of it – _ **ALL OF IT**_ – the defense had claimed was circumstantial at best. Which was bullshit – she knew it, they knew it, and she was _so_ certain that the jury would be able to see it, too, but the second that she had climbed up on that stand to testify...

Well, then, it was all about **her**. Of course – why wouldn't it be? It was _literally_ the defense's job to instill doubt in people and to try to paint Amelia as being unreliable or untrustworthy. But they did more than that...they tried to twist the narrative to make it appear as though _she_ were behind the whole fucking thing. And they bought it. The dumb fuckers actually bought it.

Pushing her hands into the thick, crimson locks atop her head, Amelia gripped at her scalp, ignoring the sharp tugging pain as she gritted her teeth. She could hardly think – the past few months had seemed to drag on forever for her and by this point, she was so exhausted and bitter that she wasn't entirely sure what the fuck she was even doing anymore. And now there was this to deal with...

She felt every muscle in her body tense, her heart hammering inside her chest.

Jim had promised that things would get better. That he'd put Galavan and the rest of them away and that she would be free to move on with her life. He had _**PROMISED**_ that to her; his arms wrapped around her like a vise, holding her against his chest as she thrashed at him, tears coating her cheeks as she sobbed and spat abuse his way. She had just learned that the body bag that she had watched being haphazardly loaded into the vehicle just outside the building had been Jerome...Jim had confirmed it and she had blamed him, though she knew it wasn't his fault. Not really. She just wanted it to be, because he was _there_ , in the flesh, and totally available for her to seek retribution on...and he understood that. So he just held her and allowed her to be angry, and when she had calmed down enough, he convinced her to testify and vowed to help her exact revenge on the man who had taken her friends life. At least to the full extent of the law, which the woman supposed would have to be good enough.

An explosive pounding at the door drew Amelia from her thoughts; she grumbled beneath her breath as she tore her hands from her hair and proceeded to the entryway of her apartment, pulling open the door to be greeted by the sight of a disheveled James Gordon, who pushed past her and swung the door shut without uttering a single word.

"You see the news?" He asked gruffly after a moment, his back turned to the girl.

"Yeah, dipshit. I saw it." She responded coldly, a slew of cruel words biting at her tongue, though she refused to unleash them. She knew deep down that it was not the detective's fault, even if she could not help but to feel a small amount of resentment towards him.

"Yeah...well, look – I know this isn't how either of us had hoped that this would go -"

"You don't say."

"There's still a way I can fix this," The man insisted as he turned to face her, "But you need to leave town. Tonight."

"And go where?" Amelia inquired.

It wasn't as though she really had any friends anymore – and her family...they weren't exactly an option, either, were they?

"Anywhere. Doesn't matter. But you can't stay here," Jim stated lowly, stepping towards the petite woman.

"Won't leaving make things worse? Won't it make me look _more_ guilty?"

"Yeah, it's not gonna look great, but at least you'll be **safe**. You won't be as long as you're here, so what we're gonna do is this: You're gonna pack a bag, I'm gonna give you some cash, and I'm gonna drop you off at the train station...and then you're gonna buy a ticket to the farthest fuckin' place that you can afford to go and go...in the mean time, I'm gonna fix this mess. I'm gonna clear your name, and once it's safe, if you wanna come back, that's up to you, okay?" Jim explained, towering over her as he closed the distance between them.

Well...what other option did she really have? It was Jim's way or stay in Gotham and either get killed or arrested...a lose-lose-lose, to be honest.

With a sigh, Amelia bobbed her head, stepping past the man as she went to gather her things, intending to leave her home for perhaps the very last time _**all over again**_.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hey! So I've written a couple small 'in-between' chapters to help lead in to part two, so here's the first one and the next one will likely be up later this week. I hope you enjoyed the update - things are about to get interesting! Thank you for reading and feel free to leave some feedback!**_


	32. Interim (Jerome)

_"The citizens of Gotham turned out in droves yesterday, enduring the rain and the chilly winds of autumn in order to vote on numerous propositions and to choose who_ _ **they**_ _wanted to see lead our great city into the future – and choose they did, as Theodore Galavan won the election by a landslide. Mr. Galavan, who was acquitted of several charges filed against him earlier this year in connection to 'The Maniax' crime spree last summer, has vowed to make it his mission as mayor to lower crime rates within the city and to look into possible bias and corruption within the Gotham City Police Department. Mr. Galavan has been rather candid about his opinions in regards to the Gotham City Police since his trial concluded, raising concerns in regards to the departments competency_ _ **and**_ _integrity; in particular, Mr. Galavan has cited the departments failure to locate and apprehend Amelia Mara, who mysteriously disappeared shortly after the charges against him were dismissed and is, in light of new evidence that has not yet been made available to the public, now the primary suspect in this case. Ms. Mara's whereabouts are currently unknown, although she is believed to have fled the city – the police are asking that anyone with_ _ **any**_ _information on Amelia Mara or her location to please come forward immediately. Ms. Mara is caucasian and stands at approximately five feet tall, one-hundred and ten pounds, with red hair and blue eyes – she was last seen leaving her apartment building at the corner of 26_ _th_ _and Farragut Avenue on the evening of January 29_ _th._

 _During a speech earlier today, our new mayor spoke of this issue, but also went on to tell of his hopes for change in our city and to emphasis the promising future that, distant as it may seem, is certainly not out of reach -"_

"Ughhh," The repulsed groan reverberated off of tall, decaying walls as the small, black and white television displayed the image of Gotham's supposed white knight, shaking hands with citizens and smiling widely into the camera as the news anchor continued her report on the days events, "Blah, blah, blah – 'hopes for change and a promising future'...people really eat that shit up, don't they?"

Reaching out, the man swiftly grabbed at the pistol beside him and took aim at the screen, pulling the trigger as the camera zoomed in on the face of Gotham's newest mayor. He smiled to himself – he was getting back to his old self again...well, physically speaking, anyways. Though he had not been gone for very long, the boy found that once he had been... _revived_ , for lack of a better term, he was astonishingly weak – his muscles having atrophied a bit while he was...well, **dead**. It had been an unbelievably infuriating endeavor, regaining his strength and control of his body, but now that he had that mostly squared away, he found himself faced with an issue that was perhaps equally as vexing - virtually all of the memories that he had once held of the weeks leading up to his untimely demise were...well, they were spotty at best. He could remember some of the big things, of course – he remembered attacking the police department and the gala and Galavan plunging a knife into his neck...but everything else was fuzzy, to say the least.

Hearing a small, pathetic whimper behind him as shards of the television clattered across the cement floor, Jerome slowly twisted his torso around to face his associate. The man had one beady little eye, a sharp nose, and dark, greasy-looking hair – the redhead had felt nothing but revulsion towards this man from the moment he set eyes upon him, but he had reasoned that having someone around who was capable of bringing back the dead may not be an entirely bad idea, and so he let him live...though, he _did_ take his eye. It was the man's own fault, really – Jerome had woken up, laid out upon a metal slab in the middle of some run-down, abandoned warehouse to find that stupid fucker hovering over him with a scalpel. Really, the guy should've considered himself lucky that he hadn't pushed it deeper into the socket and skewered his fuckin' brain.

"There a problem, uhhh," Jerome trailed off, blanking on the man's name.

It was not something he cared enough to commit to memory.

"Dwight," The sniveling man answered meekly.

"Right...well, out with it, then. You got somethin' to say or didja just come to bask in my glow?"

Probably a bit of both, knowing that guy. Jerome had come back into the world to find that he had a gaggle of followers and at the forefront of all of them was Dwight...and some older chick whose name he also couldn't be bothered to remember.

"There's uhm...there's some uhh...there's people outside and they're asking...for you," Dwight sputtered, wringing his hands as he struggled to spit out his words.

"For me?" Jerome tittered gleefully before his face abruptly turned dark, his raspy voice dropping into a low snarl, "But I'm _**dead**_ , remember?"

The man bobbed his head up and down so quickly that the maniac suspected that he might give himself whiplash.

"Yeah, yeah – of course, I know that. And, and...no one's said anything. Not that I know of anyway – I don't know why they would, they all know that you said not to say anything and all that but somehow these people know and...and they, uh...they don't seem like they want to leave."

"You know...there's a _real_ simple solution for situations like this," The ginger sneered, pulling the hammer back on his weapon.

"Yes, but...," Dwight began, his voice feeble and saturated with fear as beads of perspiration began to form upon his skin.

"Well, well, well – guess the rumors are true. You're lookin' pretty good for a dead guy, ya know," A vaguely familiar feminine voice called from across the way.

Jerome narrowed his eyes at his subordinate, who merely sunk into himself and shuffled backwards in reply, before he turned his gaze towards the newcomer – a tall, dark-skinned woman with long, jet black hair that had been tied back into a tight pony tail.

"I know you," He stated, turning his body to face the woman fully as he raised his gun towards her, "You're Theo's little sidekick."

"I'm his sister," She corrected sharply.

"Whatever – say, how's ol' boy doin' these days?"

A slight, insincere smile pulled at her lips.

"He's fine," She answered curtly, "And he'd like to see you."

The boys manic roar of laughter pierced the air, filling the largely empty space of the warehouse with the bone-chilling sound.

"Does he now?"

"Yes."

"Well," Jerome replied, barely managing to speak through his giggles, "Isn't that _**something**_?"

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! So, I'm sorry guys, cuz I know this is a bit later than I had hoped to have this one up but I've come down with a pretty gnarly head cold and I'm so congested my head feels like its about to burst so I've kinda been a bit drained and my bed and sleep have been pretty hard to resist. I wish I had better reasoning than that, but there it is - it honestly kinda hurts to look at the computer screen, but then again everything north of my shoulders is a disaster right now so it just is what it is I suppose. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little update, please feel free to leave some feedback if ya did (you know I always love hearing from you guys) and as always, thanks for reading!**


	33. Part 2 Chapter 1

There are certain hours of the night that seem to stretch on into eternity, falling off into the void somewhere and entrapping all of the poor souls caught within it in a kind of living nightmare – this is not where she wanted to be, and yet she found that this was precisely where she lived. Tucked away into a shadowed corner, sitting upon a blackened metal stool that rested against the lengthy bar of _The Aurora Lounge,_ the girl watched patrons shamelessly indulge themselves as she waited. It was a rather large establishment – surprising, considering that it seemed to be something of a hole-in-the-wall - consisting of one cavernous room lit up with neon lights as bullshit dance remixes of old songs blared in the background. They had the bass cranked up about as high as it could possibly go and blasted their music at an almost deafening volume; it felt a bit like being punched in the chest in beat with the rhythm of whatever song they had playing.

Her eyes scanned the room, watching the men move about, many of them appearing to be traveling in a sort of tight-knit pack as they took in all that _the_ _Lounge_ had to offer – she watched as a few of them approached the far corner, stepping up to the massive black curtain that hung from floor to ceiling. She looked on as they slipped the guards stationed there a wad of cash and disappeared behind the dark veil. How pathetic. Turning her gaze down into her lap, the girl turned her hands over and lightly picked at the cuff of her hoodie. Well...it wasn't hers, technically, though she supposed a dead man would have little use for such things. Still, although she had accepted his passing, it made her strangely uncomfortable to say that it was hers. Because it wasn't. It was _his_. It would **always** be his.

Reaching out, she delicately plucked her glass up from the bar and raised it to her lips, grimacing as the harsh liquor washed over her tongue. She hated that she had stooped to this, that she found herself in this place with these assholes – a place like _the_ _Lounge_ only attracted certain classes of people: the lost, the desperate, the depraved...and all the poor fuckers caught somewhere in-between.

Guess which category she fell in to?

The only real achievement that she had made in her life had been putting herself through school and becoming a nurse – a damn good one, at that – and now...well, that was no longer an option for her. She was in hiding, so to speak - wanted for crimes she did not commit. But a girl's gotta eat, and having a roof over head is nice, too, so she took the best paying job that she could find that was willing to do things off the books.

It wasn't a great life, but what the hell else was she going to do?

"Ey, you know you're on next, right, princess?" She heard the bartender call to her over the booming sound of _The Eurythmic's 'Sweet Dreams'_.

She shot a sideways glance his way, all but snarling at the bald man of forty. He smiled at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he rested his arm on the bar in front of her.

"I know," She confirmed bitterly.

"Good, just wanted to make sure – you're lookin' a bit distracted tonight."

"I'm not," The girl muttered, shifting forward in her seat as she stared into the amber liquid in the bottom of her glass, "And don't ever call me that again."

"What's that?" He asked, leaning in so that he might hear her more clearly.

"You called me 'princess' – **don't**."

The man nodded, giving the woman a once over before backing off slightly.

"Sure thing, sorry," He offered, pausing for a moment before he continued, "By the way, boss wanted me to tell ya -"

"I already don't care."

"To tell ya to _smile_ more. People come out here to have a good time, ya know, and they need to see that you're havin' a good time, too."

"But I'm not," She replied bluntly.

"Yeahhhh," He sighed, running his hand over his head, "But these assholes don't need to know that. And they certainly don't wanna see it all over your face."

The girl turned to face the man fully, pulling the hood from her head and exposing her crimson hair and porcelain skin – her gaze burned into his and she could have sworn that he flinched slightly at the severity of it, which was admittedly mildly amusing. But alas, she was not in the mood for humor.

"Well, then," She began before taking another swig and finishing off the last of her drink, "It's a good thing that they're not here to look at my **face** , isn't it?"

The man cast his eyes to the floor, clearly at a loss as to how he should respond. She looked away, turning her attention towards the raised runway to her left – it was marked at either end by a circular stage with a glittering, silver pole at the center. It made her stomach turn just looking at it.

The room quieted minutely, the music dying down as they switched to a new playlist, signaling the beginning of what was always the worst part of the evening for Amelia.

"Well," The bartender cleared his throat, "Looks like you're up, kid."

* * *

"So...he's alive?"

"Yes."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely. Saw him myself – we all did."

Leaning back into the cushioned surface of his office chair, Theo Galavan raked his eyes across the men before him before turning them upon his sister. She had situated herself in the far corner of the room, her arms crossed in front of her chest as the men spoke to one another. She could tell immediately he was looking to her for confirmation – Theo trusted no one, and she couldn't really blame him too much for that...but he did trust _her_.

Tabitha bobbed her head softly before stepping forward, taking the center of the room and addressing her sibling herself.

"It's true," She stated simply, "The kid is alive."

Running a hand down his face, Theo sighed heavily.

"Alright then, where is he?" He inquired after a moment.

There was a brief pause before one of the men spoke up.

"He, uh...he didn't want to come," A short, stocky henchman answered timidly.

Theo blinked a few times, his brow scrunching together in an expression of annoyance and confusion.

"I'm sorry - he _what_?"

"We asked him to come with us, but he said no," One of the others reiterated.

"No, no – I understood what you said, but I don't think _you guys_ understood the orders that you were given -"

"Theo," Tabitha spoke, her tone gentle yet firm, "We know what you said, but if you want there to be even a _slight_ chance of Jerome coming around and cooperating with us, then you cannot have us dragging him here against his will."

The dark-haired man behind the desk pinched at the bridge of his nose before letting out a small puff of air and nodding.

"You're right...of course," He murmured, "We'll grant him a little bit of time...but only a little."

Approaching the desk, the woman rested her palms against its surface and leaned forward, speaking in a hushed tone as she addressed the mayor of Gotham once more.

"You know it'd be best not to rush things. Especially with this one. You could give him _all_ the time he needs and when he finally comes around, you'd have one hell of an ally."

"Tabby, we've been over this -"

"We have everything we need. _Everything_. If you'd just let me handle it, this shit would be taken care of by this time tomorrow," She insisted, balling her hands into fists as she struggled to contain her irritation.

"I'm not doubting your capabilities, Tabitha. I'm really not. But I need you **here** , with **me**. And besides, it's a good opportunity for Jerome to make a show of good faith – if he does this, we'll know he'll play ball. It's very important that it be left to him...am I clear?"

Tabitha bit at the inside of her cheeks.

"Crystal."

* * *

"Jesus Christ," Amelia mumbled to herself, pushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes as she glanced at her phone, stuffing it back into her pocket as she began to trudge up the soggy, half-rotted wooden stairs that had been precariously placed along the side of _Kassie's Corner Bar –_ they led up to a single studio apartment that rested right over top of the establishment. Home sweet home.

Fumbling with the key for a brief second, she finally got the stupid piece of metal into the correct position and twisted it, causing the door to pop open with ease. There wasn't much to look at inside – just a mattress with bedding pushed into one corner, a television, and heaps of clothing strewn all over the damn place. Except the kitchen, there were no clothes in the kitchen...that area was pretty clean, comparatively.

She didn't bother to turn on the lights – there really wasn't much of a point, as the whole place was just one big room, save for the bathroom, and the one window that the apartment did have happened to have the sign for the bar directly outside of it -

"What the hell?" Amelia grumbled to herself, blinking a few times as she studied the window.

Had she left it open? No...at least, she didn't think that she did. Wouldn't make sense for her

to have opened it – it was deep into Autumn and the cold air hinted at the bitter, cold season that would undoubtedly follow. Approaching the window with caution, the woman placed her hands upon the glass and slid downward to close it – and then something caught her eye.

Set carefully upon the window sill was a powder blue envelope with her name scrawled across it in chicken-scratch. She slowly reached down and lifted it up, her hands trembling as she tentatively flipped it over and opened it. Inside was a card. A birthday card. She swallowed thickly as she read.

 _"I know it's a little early,_

 _but happy birthday._

 _Stay safe – I know Detroit ain't Gotham_

 _but it still ain't no walk in the park, neither..._

 _I love you_

 _-H"_

The card fell from her hands, floating down and landing at her feet as she pulled her hands up to cover her mouth. She couldn't believe it...he was there...he had found her. And she wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

* * *

 **A/N: Here we go! Part two! I'm excited! So clearly, Ms. Amelia has found herself in a bad place, she's fallen on even harder times than she ever would have anticipated at the beginning of this story, and while it may sound cruel...I'm kinda stoked to explore that. No Jerome in this one...but you won't have to wait terribly long to see him again, so don't worry. I hope you enjoyed this update and I apologize for any errors I missed in proofreading – _As always, I'd really love to hear from you guys, your feedback is always super helpful and very much appreciated._ Thanks again for reading!**


	34. Part 2 Chapter 2

An inauspicious pounding at the door jerked the girl violently into consciousness – a sharp intake of air expanded her chest, her lungs burning as her heart thumped heavily inside of its cavity. She gracelessly flipped from her stomach and thrust herself up into a seated position, struggling to pull her body to its feet while she combed her wild hair with her hands and threw a quick glance downward to ensure that she was decent. Well, decent _**enough**_ , at least.

Stumbling forth from the tangled mess of sheets and blankets, Amelia's ankle managed to get ensnared, causing her to stagger forward and crash her foot into the open, half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's that had been left out beside her bed from the previous night. Its contents spilled across the floor, the amber liquid creating a large, shameful pool in the center of her already messy apartment.

"Motherfucker!" Amelia growled before stooping down and gathering a large wad of dirty clothes from the corner of the room – she carelessly tossed the garments towards the mess in a halfhearted attempt to soak it up as the obnoxious rapping at her door continued.

"Jade!" The voice outside bellowed, "Jade, I know you're in there, ya little shit! I heard ya stumble in last night 'n if you've got enough money to be pissin' it away on booze ya got enough money to pay your goddamn rent!"

The girls eyes rolled inside of her skull with such ferocity that it caused a dull ache to pulse through their sockets, agitating the already sensitive state of her head. She pressed her lids shut for a moment as she approached the door, preparing herself mentally for the visual assault that she was about to endure – not only would she be greeted by a presumably fuming Kassie, but she'd have the horrifically brilliant light of day to contend with as well.

The cool air actually felt kind of nice against her skin as the wind from outside gently pushed past her small frame and entered her home – her appreciation of this was cut short, however, by the snarling bulldog of a woman in front of her.

"You got my fuckin' money?" She spat, her round face glaring down upon Amelia, her usual red and patchy complexion seemingly exacerbated by the dipping temperatures.

The redhead stared at the woman for a moment, her face void of any semblance of emotion before she took in a deep breath, releasing it in an annoyed huff.

"You know I don't," She answered frankly.

"The fuck you mean you don't? How the fuck you keepin' the power on then, huh? 'N how you afford all that fuckin' whiskey I see you carryin' under your scrawny little arms, hm? You got money to be spendin' on that then you sure as shit got money to be givin' me for the rent you owe."

"I've got nothin' for ya, Kassie. Sorry," Amelia replied, moving to close the door before the large woman stuck her foot inside.

"Ohhhh, hell no. No you don't, ya little bitch. I ain't lettin' you live here for free, ya know. I know you got a job, so you gotta be bringin' somethin' in, or are you really that bad at crawlin' around and shakin' your ass?"

Amelia could not have stopped herself even if she had wanted to – it came as naturally as a knee-jerk reaction; it was reflex...completely involuntary. The girls hand coiled and she used all of her weight and power to throw it into Kassie's jaw. The two women connected with such force that there was an audible crack as they made contact; Kassie stumbled backwards, stunned, as she collided with the makeshift railing of the patio. To be quite honest, Amelia was somewhat surprised and more than a little disappointed that the rotting wood didn't give way with the impact of the rather heavy-set woman.

"You want some fuckin' money? Fine," The pale woman sneered, her fists still clenched as she whipped around and stalked over to the kitchen counter, grabbing the mason jar that had been filled to the brim with change and returning to her landlord who was struggling to regain her composure.

"You wanna pretend that you're all fuckin' high and mighty and that that little no-name, piece of shit bar downstairs that you have the audacity to call a business means you're the respectable, upstandin' sort? Hm? You wanna make jokes about what I do to earn a livin'? Well, here, bitch – let's try somethin'...Here's some money," Amelia seethed, stepping out onto the patio and hurling the jar over the edge, grinning as she heard it crash against the pavement below, "Crawl for it, you fuckin' putrid cunt."

Kassie scrambled towards the stairs, shooting a glance backwards towards Amelia – she did her best to look tough and imposing, but the fear could be seen in her eyes plain as day.

"You better start lookin' into other places to live, bitch! I've had it with you and your fuckin' shit!" She called as she descended the steps as quickly as she could manage.

"Yeah, well you better start lookin' into getting a fucking liquor license for that shit-show downstairs – and while you're at it, maybe brush up on the fuckin' housing laws in this state cause I can tell ya right now, your shit is far from up to code."

"Fuck you!"

"Yeah, you too," Amelia replied with a smirk before stepping back inside and harshly pulling the door closed behind her.

Making her way through the kitchen, the girl kept her eyes to the floor, suddenly painfully aware of how unkempt her place had become – the kitchen had a layer of salt and dirt coating the linoleum and the main area had clothing and fast food wrappers strewn all about.

"Christ Almighty this place is a fuckin' mess – you'd think no one ever taught ya how to clean up after yourself," A masculine voice chuckled from the apartments sole window.

It was a very deep sound, slightly rough, but it managed to hold an inordinate amount of warmth all the same.

Amelia came to a dead stop, her eyes glued to the figure seated on the windowsill – he was older...obviously, she knew that would be the case. She hadn't seen him in quite some time but for some reason his aged appearance struck her in a way that she hadn't known it could. It made her feel...sad.

The man just smiled at her, his hazel eyes sparkling as little crows feet formed at their edges – his salt and pepper hair was neatly kept, as was the beard that framed his face.

"So...how ya been, kid?" He asked after the girl had failed to offer up a response.

"Uhm...I...I don't really know how to answer that," She admitted softly.

The older man bobbed his head, a sympathetic expression forming upon his face.

"Yeah...I, uh...I heard you went and got yourself into some serious shit. Heard ya went missin' and of course...city like that, I immediately thought the worst, ya know. Glad to see that you're still alive and kickin' and not...you know...tied to some blocks at the bottom of the Gotham River."

"Yeah," Amelia sighed. She had so much that she wanted to say to him...so much, in fact, that she found that she could not think of any one thing – all of her thoughts were scattered and she was, in that moment, hopeless to retrieve them.

The man pushed himself from the windowsill and stood before her as he dug his large hands into the pockets of his jeans. At 6'2, he easily towered over her, but she was not intimidated in the slightest. Not by him.

"Amelia...you can always talk to me. You know that, don't you?" He spoke gently, trying to mask his concern.

"How'd you find me, Harry?"

She hadn't meant for her words to come off quite as cold as they sounded – she winced internally as they flew from her tongue, but she needed to know...because if _**he**_ had managed to find her, there was no telling who could show up next.

He seemed to take her crassness in stride - a low, soft laugh rumbling from his chest as he smoothed a hand through his short mane.

"Well...you're kinda in my city, sweetheart."

" _ **Your**_ city?" The girl furrowed her brow.

What the fuck was he talking about?

"Yeah," Harrison breathed, casting his eyes to the floor, "It's a long story."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms tightly in front of her chest. They both knew that there was no way on Earth that she was going to accept that as an answer.

"Give me the cliff notes then," She demanded, her tone quiet yet firm.

The man shook his head, a nervous grin tugging at his lips as he shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

"Harrison – you do **not** get to come up in here unannounced, say shit like that, and then not give me a fucking explanation, okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart, I'll tell ya...," He squared his shoulders and finally met her gaze again, "But you're gonna wanna have yourself a seat."

* * *

The music boomed overhead, just as it had the previous night, and every single night before that. The same remixes in the same order, the same girls doing the same routines...it was a tiresome gig, to be sure. It was like a loud, grotesque nightmare playing on repeat...but Amelia had grown rather numb to it, and somehow she knew deep down that that was worse than the dismay and humiliation that had initially hounded her when she had accepted the job...but what else was she to do? She could no longer use the credentials that she had worked so hard to earn – hell, she could not even use her real name. She was Amelia Mae Mara, R.N., no longer – now she was Jade Alexandria Napier, also known as 'Ginger'...and she was, to put it politely, an exotic dancer and a blooming alcoholic. Fitting, she jeered internally, considering the woman who had birthed her into this Godforsaken world.

Amelia sat in her usual spot, back pressed to the wall as she perched herself upon the bar-stool and waited in shadow for her time to go on – as per usual, the bartender approached her and she did her best to resist rolling her eyes. He would always come to her with a message from the boss...as if her boss thought that somehow Chris would be able to sweet-talk her into doing all of the things that he had failed to. It was a routine that she had quickly grown tired of, but she knew that it would never stop unless she gave in to the boss' requests...and that simply would never happen, and therefore she had come to accept that this would just have to be something she'd have to deal with.

"Hey, Jade – how's it goin' tonight, toots? You're lookin' kinda low," The man inquired with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was odd, the tone with which he spoke to her...it almost seemed as if he were trying to comfort her. He'd never tried that approach before.

"I'm fine, Chris. Thanks."

"Alright, alright...just saw Anthony was getting' kinda terse with ya earlier n' I thought I'd make sure ya were okay."

Ugh, Anthony. He was the scumbag that owned and operated The Lounge – a balding, middle-aged bag of shit that liked to dress like he was a big shot...except that his clothes were always two sizes too big and he was constantly having to hike up his fucking pants because apparently the dumb shit never heard of a belt. He was a man who loved his money, and he likely could have afforded some suits that would actually fit him properly if he didn't also love cocaine but ya know...you win some, you lose some or whatever.

"Yeah, it's fine. Same shit as always, ya know."

"Frank, again, eh?"

Mhm – Frank. Frank was a regular, and although he was an arguably attractive man, there was something exceptionally off-putting about him. He had become something of a thorn in Amelia's side, as he would tail her all night long every night that he was there, constantly trying to test the limits as to just how far he could get her to go and incessantly trying to coerce her with obscene monetary offers in spite of the fact that she had drawn a very clear and definitive line. Anthony didn't like that, because you see...Frank and Anthony were very old friends, and so not only was Amelia turning down large sums of money that would go primarily into Anthony's pocket, but she was also denying one of his oldest pals and most valued customers. He simply didn't understand what the big deal was – he had even gone as far as to try to make the point to Amelia that Frank had already seen her naked, and would it really be so much worse just to 'let him get his rocks off'? He urged her to think of the money and that considering the amount that he was offering, that it wouldn't be so difficult to just grin and bare it.

It made the girl sick to even think about it, and it was **that** exact conversation that Anthony had bombarded her with the moment that she had walked through the door that evening. Frank was there, wandering around, evidently wanting to have the redhead in the worst kind of way, and he had yet again made Anthony an outrageous offer to convince Amelia to spend some time with him behind the black curtain.

Amelia, of course, said no.

The girl merely bobbed her head in response to the bartenders question. He made a small sound of acknowledgment, told her that he'd make her a drink, and ambled off into the back. As soon as Chris had moved out of the way and was no longer obstructing her view, she noticed a familiar figure just around the bend of the bar.

Amelia shot the man a sideways glance, her eyes like small black slits under the strange lights of The Lounge - what the fuck was he doing there?

Noticing that he had caught her eye, he offered her a smile and a gentle nod before raising a glass to his lips. It burned her up, his casual behavior…how could he pretend that everything was fine, that things were **normal** …it was unnerving how naturally it seemed to come to him.

"The fuck are you doin' here, Harry?" She finally asked after a few minutes of tense silence. "Same as you, I imagine. Got a job to do," He replied, scratching at his black and silver whiskers.

"You mean you got someone to kill?" Amelia stated bluntly.

She still couldn't believe it. For as long as she had known this man, she would never have pegged him for a killer – much less the kind of killer that'd do it for money. It was just...beyond comprehension for her.

Harrison chuckled softly, "We like to call 'em 'marks'."

"Does that make you feel better about what you do?"

"Sometimes," He shrugged, "Does callin' yourself an 'exotic dancer' make you feel better 'bout what _**you**_ do?"

His words tore through her chest and stung at her eyes - the recognition of the pain that he had just caused registered with him immediately, his expression falling and his eyes brimming with remorse.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," He murmured, gently reaching out and placing his large, rough hand over top of hers, "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," She shifted in her seat, "It's fine."

"No, it isn't. Don't you **ever** let anyone talk to you that way, you understand me? Take that shit from no one, not even me…I love you, hun…never be afraid to stand up for yourself."

"...I love you, too," She muttered, casting her eyes up as she noticed a couple of men approaching her.

It was Anthony, with Chris in tow.

What the hell was this?

"Jade – C'mere," The ghost-white business man commanded, curling a long, bony finger at her, "We needs ta talk."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everyone – I'm so sorry that it has been so incredibly long. I honestly just kind of lost motivation there for a while to do much of anything with writing and such, but I've got so much planned for this series and I do not plan on ever abandoning it so do not worry about that. I know there is no Jerome in this update and that's a bit of a bummer, but he'll be poppin' up soon enough – there's just a good bit to cover on both Amelia and Jerome's sides of things at the moment and Amelia's bit will kind of lead into Jerome's...if that makes sense. Anyways, I hope that that this update wasn't too awful and that you enjoyed it – I apologize for any errors that I may have missed while proofreading and as always, thank you so much for being so patient with me and for reading my word-vomit. _If you would be so kind, feedback is always immensely appreciated – thanks again!_ **


	35. Part 2 Chapter 3

Tony Zoulachski, 39. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio to Marianne Kerbleski and Rodney Zoulachski, high school sweethearts who had a little too much fun on prom night and never saw each other again after the brat was born. They actually had, had the audacity to name the poor fucker Tony – not Anthony, **Tony**. Like Tony-the-goddamned-Tiger but making that comparison felt like an insult to the children's cereal mascot to anyone unfortunate enough to know literally anything about him. He was a balding little fuckwad, strung out on heroin and coke half the time and when he wasn't blitzed out of his mind, he spent his nights managing his little corner of hell that he had cleverly dubbed _The Aurora Lounge,_ like it was some fancy, high-class type of joint. The prick was strangely enough, always incredibly concerned with appearances, which is why he insisted on being called Anthony rather than his given name, because even _**he**_ knew that it was kinda hard to take a dude named Tony , none of that sounds too good, but Harrison…Harrison knew just how much bleaker his shit really got when you actually started lookin'. Shit, half of his livelihood came from diggin' the skeletons out of peoples closets, and the other half…well, the other half could perhaps be most politely described as putting his marks to rest right alongside 'em.

Harry was not a violent man, he held not an ounce of malice for the people who had met their end opposite the barrel of his gun. It was never personal and he never enjoyed it. It simply was what it was; A means to an end...the fact that he generally found himself ridding the world of one more scumbag was merely a consolation prize…it was knowledge that granted him the smallest amount of solace. As he raised his glass to his lips and let the bitter, amber liquid wash across his tongue, Harry watched Tony and the sad excuse for a man that tended the bar for him - Christopher Wheatley - along with a couple of Tony's nameless stooge's circle around the pretty little red-haired girl who now stood on the opposite side of the room, completely unaware of just how much shit she was really in. The man grimaced as the familiar burn filled his mouth and left a trail all the way down to his belly, settling in his stomach about as well as battery acid as he continued to casually observe the happenings across the way. It troubled him that he could not see Amelia's face…that he could not signal for her to have her wits about her. He hoped by now that she would know well enough to not have to be told these things, though it pained him to think that she should have to feel that need to be so guarded all of the time. The world wasn't a safe place no more…Harry wasn't sure it ever was, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that present day…ain't nobody ever really safe, especially not pretty, young things. He took another sip of the caustic liquid in his hand as Tony snarled and jabbed a long, boney finger into his girl's chest – the man could feel his blood pressure rising, his fist coiling around the cool glass tightly as he fought to keep his composure.

Harry was not a violent man. The jobs he took were never personal and he never enjoyed them…not until Tony Zoulachski wound up on his radar.

The exchange was rather brief in that it escalated significantly quicker than Harrison had anticipated, his eyes widening as he watched Chris jab a syringe into the back of Amelia's neck.

"Motherfucker," He growled under his breath, carelessly plopping his glass onto the bar as he stood and began to leisurely make his way through the crowded room. He didn't want to make a scene and tip the fuckers off.

His hands concealed within the depths of his long coat, Harry strolled along the outer edge of the room, offering the solemn bartender a tight-lipped grin as the man made to move past him – in an instant, Harrison had his finger's wrapped around his throat, pressing the man back against the outer wall as he shoved the barrel of his revolver against the underside of his trembling chin.

"One of the downside's of workin' in a shithole like this – there's so many damn shadowy spots, ain't there?" He sneered, clicking the safety off on his weapon.

Christopher shook beneath the man's grasp, his saucer-like eyes wet with fear.

"Now, you're gonna tell me what you did to that little girl, cause if you don't, I'm gonna splatter your goddamn brain all over this wall and then the cops'll show up and someone's gonna have to explain to little Anna why her papa ain't around no more…'n what a tragedy would that be, right?"

The man nodded vehemently.

"Right. Good. So we're on the same page. Now tell me what the hell just happened."

"Boss set everything up – he had Frank come in early so that he could already be behind the curtain and be ready for her and he told me that he'd pull her to the side to talk to her and that if she got uppity to stick her with the needle," He blurted out as if the words couldn't leave his mouth fast enough.

"And what was in the needle?" Harry inquired, his voice low and menacing.

"You know, man….it's a concoction. A sedative. Makes the girls more compliant."

The dark-haired man bobbed his head softly.

"Makes the girls more compliant," He scowled, "Boy…you'd better hope that your girl don't ever end up on the wrong side of some sorry son of a bitch like you lookin' to make her 'more compliant'…that's some sick shit, you know that?"

The bartended sputtered out something incomprehensible, tears falling from his eyes as Harry released his hold on him.

"Run home to your family, you fuckin' shit."

Chris scrambled away as quickly as he could, his terror having robbed him of any grace that he had ever possessed, which was only accentuated when Harry booted him in the ass and sent the heavy-set man crashing to the floor.

Rounding the bend, he pulled a pack of Marlboro's from the inside pocket of his coat and casually poked a cigarette between his lips, offering a curt nod to the two men stationed outside of the black curtain as he stepped up to them.

"No one's available right now, bud. Sorry."

"I see, I see…well, that's quite alright – cause uh, I'm of the mind that any sorry sonofabitch that feels like he can pay his way into a woman's body ain't worth no more than the Kleenex his daddy shoulda shot him into," Harry replied, taking the smoke between his fingers.

The men shifted awkwardly where they stood, their expressions hardening as they glanced at one another, each hoping that the other would have an idea as to how they should handle their odd guest. Harrison spoke again, breaking the short silence before either of them could conjure up a response.

"But to each their own, I suppose. Reason I'm here botherin' you two gentlemen is cause I can't seem to find a goddamn light in this place and I'm itchin' for a smoke somethin' awful. Either one of you boys got a light on ya?"

The taller of the two guards simply stared down at the older man for a moment before bobbing his head and reaching into his pocket. He dug around for a little while, struggling to wrap his thick fingers around the small device, before at last a silver Zippo came into view.

Harrison's lips spread wide across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling and gleaming with a gleeful sort of wickedness.

"Well, wouldja lookit that? Thank you, kindly, son," He beamed, a strange malice buried within his otherwise jubilant tone.

He plucked the lighter from the guards hand and quickly lit his cigarette, the cherry glowing brightly as he sucked in deeply at the other end. The flame of the lighter remained lit, dancing wildly amidst the three men before the guard cautiously reached out to retrieve it.

"Oh, you'll be wantin' this back then, huh?"

"Yeah. You got your light now it's about time you moved on, pal."

"Sure, sure…here ya go," With those words, Harrison flicked his wrist, tossing the lighter away.

He watched as it landed at the edge of the curtain, burrowing his hands into his coat to ready himself while the material began to burn. The guards both whipped around, their instinct to observe what was taking place behind them catching the men off their game as Harry pulled out his gun and fired a bullet into the back of the taller guards head. His peer turned and moved his hand towards his hip, presumably to grab at his own weapon, but it was far too late for any of that. Again, Harry pulled the trigger, and the back of the young man's skull burst, battering the black fabric behind where he had once stood.

Taking a long drag off of his cigarette, Harrison squared his shoulders and stepped through the smoldering veil of black…

* * *

A/N: Hey everyone - sorry for the ridiculously long wait. And I know - theres no Amelia OR Jerome here but they'll both be showing up next chapter (albeit separately). Kinda wanted to have a chapter where Harry was the primary focus so you guys can start to kind of figure out who he is as a character because he will be a fairly big one in the overall story and because honestly, he's one of my favorites as far as my OC's are concerned. Anyway, i apologize again for the wait and for any mistakes I didn't catch. I hope you enjoyed this update and as always, your feedback is encouraged and incredibly appreciated!


	36. Part 2 Chapter 4

**TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, TORTURE, VIOLENCE, AND GORE. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.**

Pain…it was virtually the only thing that Amelia Mara knew in those dark and hazy moments after the pointed end of the syringe had sunk into the skin at the back of her neck, unleashing an unknown mixture of chemicals into her small body, incapacitating her outright. Though she could not move, as her limbs suddenly felt as though they had been filled with concrete, she could still think…still see…she was still very much aware of what was happening and yet she could not call out for help. Tears stung at her eyes as she could do nothing but watch the disgusting wretch of a man move on top of her – she wanted to scream, to kick, to vomit….but mostly she wanted to shout for Harry. She wanted to see him in the worst possible way – as though the mere image of him would be enough to pull her back together in her mind – although, admittedly, she did not wish for him to see her in her current state.

The smell of sweat and cheap cologne clogged the poor girl's nostrils, causing her to scrunch her nose and turn her head away so that the side of her face was pressed to the grimy, glitter-covered floor. Her body jostled coarsely against the ground as Frank continued his assault above her – Amelia's face, once wrought with anguish had slowly fallen and become expressionless as her attacker continued to violate her and smoke slowly began to fill the makeshift room.

Smoke. Heavy plumes had begun to fill the air and though this occurrence struck Amelia as being rather strange, her mind was far too muddled to make any sense of it, much less the panicked shouts that accompanied the dark, suffocating clouds. She hadn't the slightest clue as to what was happening around her – she was simply aware of the atrocity that was taking place atop of her petite frame and the sickness she felt within…and then she heard the sharp and deafening burst of gunfire.

A garbled sob escaped her trembling lips as they pulled into a faint smile.

Harry. It **had** to be Harry.

In an instant, Frank had withdrawn himself from the motionless woman trapped beneath him and began to scramble to do up his trousers. His brown eyes glanced down, burning into Amelia's empty blue orbs as terror ripped across his broad features. In spite of her immobility and the tears that wetted her delicate face, the girl snarled in defiance and spat at him, coating his olive toned cheek just beneath his eye. He glowered down at her and raised his fist.

Next thing she knew, Amelia's world had gone black.

"What the fuck do you want, man?! What – Whatever they're payin' ya I can…I can double it!" Tony's nasally voice screeched as he ducked his scrawny body behind a large, red sofa.

The addict shook with fear as the blood of his henchmen crept across the floor and began to lap at the soles of his shoes, the screams of his customers fleeing the burning club permeated the air and only added to his distress. The smoke and fire seemed oddly befitting of the situation, though the harsh, charred feeling it left in his throat was beginning to grow and made it difficult for him to concentrate.

"Yeah…I doubt that," The older gentleman drawled as he slowly and deliberately began to make his way around the piece of furniture that separated them, "N besides…this one's kinda personal."

Tony whimpered and struggled to wrack his brain for some kind of plan to get himself out his dire situation.

"Now just where the hell d'ya think you're goin', boy?" He heard the man ask before a single shot rang out and he heard Frank scream, a bullet having torn through the back of his knee.

"Fuck!"

"Yeah…hurts, don't it?" Harrison seethed – he was gonna have to come up with somethin' special for that vile little son of a bitch.

Stepping around the couch and pressing the hot metal of his gun against the side of Tony's bald head, Harry almost felt bad for the disgusting, quivering little man.

"You okay, Frank?!" Tony called out to his buddy, eyeing Harry nervously.

Silence.

A deep laugh rumbled from Harrison's chest as he pulled the hammer back on his weapon.

"Yeah…he ain't feelin' too talkative at the moment…busy tryin' ta crawl for his life n all, ya see."

"Fuck you!" Frank shouted, his voice quaking in pain as he pulled himself across the floor.

Harrison fired a shot just inches to the side of Frank's head, causing the man to let out a high-pitched scream. The older man grinned and returned his full attention to the pale, shaking man seated on the floor before him.

Harry's smile abruptly fell…and that was the last thing Tony Zoulachski ever saw.

* * *

"Jerome…please," Theo pleaded, his wrists having gone numb from being secured so tightly behind his back.

In hindsight, Theo had to admit that he had been a fool to allow Jerome any amount of time to think over his proposal. He should have given Tabby the okay to put the maniac down once he had shown any indication that he would be a problem…and of course he was going to be a problem. The boy was chaos incarnate, and he of all people should have known that. You know what they say about hindsight, though…

"Ah, ah – no begging. It's so, hmmmm – sad…and _boring_! And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a boring person…especially a whining one. Ya get me?" Jerome growled, craning his body so that his face was but inches from the bloodied mayor.

A low, rumbling chuckle escaped Theo's chest, causing the man to erupt into a coughing fit which spewed blood across the redhead's face. The lunatic hardly flinched as a small bit of crimson splashed just beneath his eye and began to trail down his cheek.

"Jerome I implore you – let me go. We could accomplish so much together –"

"Yeah, look – I know my noggin's a bit scrambled at the moment but I'm pretty darn sure that that's the same spiel you gave me before ya…ya know," Jerome made a crude stabbing gesture towards the scar that marked his neck, "And uh…I ain't buyin' it this time around."

"She left me no choice. You have to believe me."

"Uh, no…I don't. And besides, I think that I'd remember this Amelia chick if she had really been that big of a player in things, no? See, I got next to no recollection of her and yet here you are sayin' she masterminded the whole maniax thing…a bit weird, if ya ask me…"

Theo's shoulders slumped slightly in defeat.

"Buttttttttt," Jerome drawled, "I suppose there's no harm in paying her a visit. See if it jogs my memory a bit, ya know. Where is she?"

The dark haired man's eyes lit up as those words reached his ears. He thought that perhaps the boy was finally starting to come around.

"I don't have an exact location, but we know she is in Michigan," He explained hastily.

"Yeahhhh, I'm gonna need you to narrow it down a bit."

"As I said," Theo continued, "We don't have an exact location on her, but…we do have one on her brother."

"Oooohooo – so what? I'm supposed to track down the brother and see if he can lead me to her?" Jerome cocked an eyebrow, his hands clasped behind his back.

"He knows where she is. I'm sure of it."

"…Okay. Good enough for me," The redhead replied curtly.

"So…you'll let me go?" Theo questioned carefully.

The boy giggled.

"Sure, sure…in a manner of speaking. Someone grab the rope!"

* * *

"Amelia….Amelia, baby wake up," Harrison softly whispered to the girl, gently rocking her as she slept curled up in her bed.

"What?" She answered meekly, her voice far away and broken.

It decimated Harry to see her this way.

"Babe, ya need to eat somethin'….and you and I, we gotta talk."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I know…and we don't gotta talk about that…I need to talk to you about what happened in Gotham, sweetheart," Harrison explained, running his large hand up and down the length of Amelia's back.

"I don't want to talk about that, either," The woman responded frankly.

Harry's lips pulled into a solemn smile.

"I'm sure…but we got to, sweetheart. I wouldn't insist if it weren't important."

"Why is it so important?" Amelia asked, slowly sitting up to face Harrison fully.

"Somethin's happened." He answered lowly.

"What?"

Harry sighed and turned his back to the girl, pressing the small black button on the front of the television. She watched as it blinked to life and displayed the grotesque image of a man hanging by his neck from the front of Gotham City Hall. X's had been cut over his eyes, his lips had been sliced into a permanent grin, and the word's "Ha Ha Ha" had been carved into his chest. Despite the horrendous mutilation of the man's corpse, Amelia was still able to identify the figure on the screen with certainty, the scroll along the bottom only confirmed what she was seeing.

 _Mayor Theodore Galavan brutally murdered – citizens and criminals alike running rampant on the streets of Gotham_


End file.
